WORK IN PROGRESS ((I wanted to finish them before I posted but I got too excited))






:: Name ::
Dale
(Meaning: Lives in the valley)
:: Age ::
7 Years
:: Gender ::
Stallion
:: Sexuality ::
Bisexual / Biromantic
((He / Him))
:: Band ::
The Southern Band
:: Rank ::
Band Leader
:: Breed(s) ::
He strongly resembles a lusitano horse
:: Appearance ::
This well muscled horse stands 16 hands even at his withers, and weighs around 1,050 pounds. He has a smaller head but a very long and pronounced nose, it appears similar to that of any baroque horse. A strong arched neck sits on his slightly sloping shoulders, compact body and powerful hindquarters. His messy mane and tail flow with the slightest hint of wind. He hardly pays attention to his appearance, coming off as bedraggled doesn't really bother him.
He was born a full bay, as his mother had been as well, but she had greyed out. Dale had also gotten a hold of this gene. The first signs of greying showed around the crest of his back, his face, and his belly. It has slowly progressed around his body, and it has not finished its rout either, by the time he passes away he expects to be fully white, which is common in greying horses. His mane still holds it's rich black color, but his tail has white creeping up from the bottom.
His gaits are graceful and swift, his powerful hindquarters keep him honest in his movements. He holds his head high and proud, as any other stallion would. He is just as fast as any other horse, but is slightly stronger than most,his confirmation has been given credit for that aspect of Dale.
:: Personality ::
Dale is a calm stallion. His seriousness can sometimes come off as intimidating, but Dale doesn't really intend to be seen that way. He has a heart of gold, he only wants to be seen as a friend to his followers, despite their lower rankings. He has a sense of humor, but he hardly ever uses it anyway. (Wip!)
:: Bio ::
Bred and born belonging to the tribe. Was used as a hunting horse, particularly ridden by a gentle and young teenage male. Tribe was chased off, Dale managed to stay away from the attackers and escape to freedom with his now followers. ((This is a filler!!! His real Bio description in in the works!!))
:: Family/Relations ::
Friends
None at the moment (Open!)
Family
Mother ~
Father ~
Enemies
None at the moment (Open!)
Romantic Interest ❤
None at the moment
:: Views ::
None at the moment!
:: Other ::

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:: Name ::
Lucca
:: Age ::
8 Years
:: Gender ::
Stallion
:: Sexuality ::
Homosexual / Homoromantic
((He / Him))
:: Band ::
The Southern Band
:: Rank ::
Follower
:: Breed(s) ::
Resembles an Andalusian Horse
:: Appearance ::
Lucca is a fairly thin horse, but not really that short. He stands 15.2 hands at his withers. He only weighs about 960 pounds, thinner than the average stallion. He has a very long and fragile profile. He holds up long and skinny ears over his gentle, forgiving, wide-set eyes. He has a long build all together, his conformation flows nicely and his proportions just seem to work together well. He stands on 4 fragile-looking legs supported by black shiny hooves. Above his shoulders his withers protrude fairly high from his back. His sleek build allows him to run faster than most and swiftly get his bones to cooperate with him, he has no problem with coordination.
White fur covers Lucca from ear to hoove, making him look like a unicorn. Under his white coat his skin is a dark grey, which can be seen around area with thinner hair like his muzzle and eyes. He has a irregular snip streak down his nose, making his skin turn pink in some area of his muzzle. The snip is hard to see against his similarly colored fur, but against his skin it is very apparent where the color falls. His bright mane and tail are very wavy. His mane stretches past his neck and his tail tends to drag behind him ever so slightly.
Lucca has swift gaits and fast movements. His legs may look fragile but they are none the less powerful. His head mostly stays low and he is very collected in the way he moves, he moves similar to a reining horse. His ears are constantly in a hyper-vigilant state, as he is a fairly spooky stallion, if something makes an uncommon noise he's going to know about it.
:: Personality ::
Lucca is a very optimistic stallion, he tends to be the one to lift spirits in dark times. Lucca loves to put himself in the middle of things, he knows how beautiful he is and it's not good. He never plans to leave his current band, he hates fights and seeing others in pain. Lucca is anything but shy, he treats everyone as if he has been friends with them for years. Some horses find this very annoying, but honestly Lucca could care less about other's opinions on him. He is very self confident and often spends time grooming himself and getting the most out of his appearance.

Lucca is a friendly and cheerful horse. He has also been known to be kind of a flirt, but he also hates making others uncomfortable, so he knows when to lay off most of the time. He may or may not be considered romantically desperate, but don't tell him that. An easy shoulder to cry on, he is a great listener and happily helps others in emotional need. Luke loves helping others and he feels that he really gets to know his band companions better that way as well.

Lucca is the kind of horse to crack at least two or three jokes every conversation. He has a good, clean sense of humor. He is usually careful with his words, he hates accidentally offending others or catching them in a sensitive area. Lucca himself actually suffers from anxiety and is known to have the occasional panic attack, so he can often relate to others. His anxiety mostly acts up when he feels helpless. When he feels emotionally trapped or he can't help someone else or there is a situation he can't control it's at his worst. Other than that, Luke is a cheerful and helpful stallion when he can be.
:: Bio ::
Wip!
:: Family/Relations ::
Friends
None at the moment (Open!)
Family
Mother ~
Father ~
Enemies
None at the moment (Open!)
Romantic Interest ❤
None at the moment
:: Views ::
None at the moment!
:: Other ::

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:: Name ::
Hellebore ((Hella, Helle))
(A type of flower)
:: Age ::
4 years
:: Gender ::
Mare
:: Sexuality ::
Heteroflexible
((She / Her))
:: Band ::
The Northern Band
:: Rank ::
Follower
:: Breed(s) ::
Resembles an Thoroughbred
:: Appearance ::
Hellebore's conformation appearance shows her young age. she is a fairly tall horse, standing 16 hands at her withers and weighing 1,000 pounds. She has a long muzzle and a slim cheek. Her eyes are set evenly apart and high on her head. She has a sleek neck on strong shoulders, rounded withers, and a level spine. She has powerful haunches and shoulders over her four thin, yet strong legs. Her mane is close to bald, and her tail only reaches to her back forelocks.
WIP!
:: Personality ::
Hellebore is a very spirited mare, she has enough energy to fuel the whole band. She's also clever, she's fast thinking, and she can make the best out of most situations. Hellabore is most well known for being a happy-go-lucky type character, she finds joy in literally everything and somehow she manages to stay happy all the time. She is a naturally sweet horse, she tries to never hold any unnecessary grudges.

Hella was used as a hunting horse when she was in the tribe, mainly because off her speed. This has made her very hot and fiery, constantly wanted to run and buck and play. She has a very kind nature around others, she loves helping out for the band and always offers her extra pair of helping hooves. She can be a bit talkative sometimes, but she has just sort of learned to tune herself out.

Even though Hellabore is only 4 years old she still acts like a yearling. She gets joy out of just running around and feeling the wind in her mane. The simple things in her life always seem to stand out most in Hella's memories.
:: Bio ::
Wip!
:: Family/Relations ::
Friends
None at the moment (Open!)
Family
Mother ~
Father ~
Enemies
None at the moment (Open!)
Romantic Interest ❤
None at the moment
:: Views ::
None at the moment!
:: Other ::

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:: Name ::
Tobias ((Toby))
(Meaning loves nature)
:: Age ::
6 Years
:: Gender ::
Stallion
:: Sexuality ::
Bisexual / Biromantic
((He / Him))
:: Band ::
Loner
:: Rank ::
Loner
:: Breed(s) ::
Resembles an Appaloosa
:: Appearance ::
Tobias is a stunning horse. His conformation is similar to that of an average quarter horse. His rounded withers are 14.3 hands tall, and he weighs only 980 pounds. He has a compact and rounded body, he has a fairly short muzzle complimented by his full cheeks. He has small and pointy ears above his colorful head. His neck is compact and sleek, and below his wide set shoulders he has powerful legs. his haunches ripple with muscle, but that doesn't keep him from being as clumsy as he is.
His coat is a rainbow, splashes of chestnut, caramel, and white shield his skin. Under the white cover he is a vibrant chestnut stallion. The white leopard cover reaches over nearly his entire body, with only a few speckles of chestnut peeping through. Around his legs, face, and shoulders is where you can see the most of his true color. The skin under his lively fur is a mottled dark grey and pink. His mane and tail have both been covered by the bright white overlay, but his bright mane has a few stripes of chestnut hairs up on his forelock. His mane is is fairly short, but his tail gets close to raking the ground at a stand still.
Tobias' gaits are indifferent to any other average horse's. He holds his head at a comfortable height with his nose tipped down and his ears forward. he isn't very graceful, in fact quite the opposite. He seems to not be able to control where his feet go half the time. He holds his tail high when he runs and his stride is inconsistent. His walk, trot, canter, and gallop are all laugh worthy, but hey he occasionally gets an extra boost of speed.
:: Personality ::
Wip!!
:: Bio ::
Wip! =D
:: Family/Relations ::
Friends
None at the moment (Open!)
Family
Mother ~
Father ~
Enemies
None at the moment (Open!)
Romantic Interest ❤
None at the moment
:: Views ::
None at the moment!
:: Other ::
Pictures are linked to their sources!

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Secondary Image

:: Name ::
Havik
Also called Havi by some very close friends and Vika by his dam
:: Age ::
Five
:: Gender ::
Stallion
:: Sexuality ::
Homoromantic/Bisexual
He/Him
:: Band ::
The Southern Band
:: Rank ::
Heir
:: Breed(s) ::
American Paint Horse

:: Appearance ::
Standing at a proud 15.2hh—and still growing, he'll remind you—Havik is pretty as a picture in everything from his colour to his build to the way he carries himself as he surveys the Southern Band's territory. His features are all refined and feminine with large, expressive eyes and a face that tapers to a point at his pink muzzle. A full blaze adds to and accentuates this with the illusion that that his face is thinner than it is. He always looks alert, thinking, like he's constantly processing everything around him, small ears flicking at every sound. His mane and tail are sparse; though the thin hair grows long, it tends to break off before covering his neck or touching the ground.

His body seems to be in juxtaposition to his pretty face, from his short neck and barrel chest to his thick hindquarters and long legs; it's clear that he was built strong for protection and endurance, making him quite capable of doing his job as heir, and an exceptional candidate as his band's possible future leader. He does like to point out that he's still at "that awkward stage" and though his body is somewhat gangly now, and yes, his hip is a little high, he still has time to even out before he's finished growing for good.

What's possibly the most striking about Havik on first sight, however, is his uniquely beautiful coat. The sandy buckskin isn't uncommon enough to turn heads, though the fawn-like shade adds to the overall softness of his appearance. No. What's so unique about him are the tovero markings that mottle and interrupt the colour with white along the sides of his body, leaving his legs and the top of his neck completely colourless.

:: Personality ::
+Dedicated +Loyal +Intelligent | -Guarded -Capricious -Gauche

Havik tries so, so hard to stay somber, and he does a pretty good job of it as well. He takes his role as heir very seriously, considering the implications of the title, and realizes that it's just as much his responsibility as his leader's to keep the band safe. He's diligent as far as his scouting patrols go, and is always at his leader's beck and call—he didn't have to be given this position, so he does whatever he can to show that he not only deserves the honour, but treasures it. In some ways, he makes it his whole life, with little room for anything else. It's important, after all. Losing his family and loved ones made him realize that; next time, he wants to be able to make a difference, even if that's only alerting the band so they have enough time to escape before any of them can be taken away.

That alone means the world to him.

But there are chinks in his armor where the briefest moments of his true self shine through. Still young, and young at heart, it's clear that there are times when Havik wants to be excused from his duties so he can relax and socialize with his bandmates. Despite the desire, months of mostly keeping to himself have left him quite awkward and he tends to either overthink everything he says, or just blurts out whatever's on his mind in attempt to appear more casual, depending on his company. It tends to get worse around those he's not familiar with, those he's in complete awe of, or those he likes just a little more than a bandmate or friend.

:: Bio ::
Months prior, when he and his family coexisted with the Native people of the land, Havik was happy. Most of the time he spent with people was when he was too young to be good for anything but a laugh, bucking and kicking with the other colts as they played pretend, imagining they were the great warriors from their parents' bedtime stories. Havik, in particular, was quite the comedian as a foal; he was nosy and got into things he shouldn't, and then reacted with an explosion of energy like a land mine being stepped on when he was scolded. He never really was much of a pocket pony in his youth, and perhaps that bled over into his young adulthood, contributing to his social awkwardness.

As he grew older and was finally backed for the first time, the colt's desire to stay free and do his own thing only grew; he really wasn't so sure he liked having those funny naked two-legged things on top of him where he couldn't see what they were up to. He was pretty sure that he was destined for bigger things, anyway; he wanted to be a great fighter, like his hero, Cumulonimbus, who was a jet black stallion said to bring about violent storms to vanquish his enemies. He was old enough to know that those were just old mare's tales, but it didn't stop him from dreaming, even when he was far past the age of playing pretend. The tribe didn't consider him a lost cause just because he was hard to handle, though. It just meant that they had to work harder until Havik began to comply with what they were asking, and eventually he did. Even if he didn't like it.

Through all this, one of the few things that made any of it bearable at all was a stallion named Nimbus, just a year older than him and named for the warrior in his favourite mare's tale. That was probably why he liked him so much, to be honest. It had much less to do with Nim's shy, reserved nature and the way he looked up at everyone through thick, long lashes with his head held submissively low. It had absolutely nothing to do with the way he was gentle with the people and genuinely appeared to enjoy letting them crawl all over him, and how he treated the younger horses with the same careful manner. It most certainly had nothing whatsoever to do with the way the sunlight crept over his back and through his mane, catching on his eyelashes as he raised his head in the early mornings to greet Havik when he came closer. If he was crushing on the other male, he wouldn't have said anything.

Along with Nimbus came a human girl who practically hung off him like a tree. The two of them were nearly always together, so even if Havik had wanted to confess the feelings that he definitely did not have, he just wouldn't have felt right doing it in front of the girl. She was a handsy little thing, too, though Havik was pretty sure she was old enough to know better, and no matter how many times he tried to set her straight, there was no stopping her from braiding flowers into what little hair he had, picking the burrs from his coat (which he hated; he'd worked hard to collect those), or washing the patches of mud off his white spots. He was impeccably clean because of her, and he despised that. Warriors weren't supposed to be clean, after all. He didn't mind her, though; especially when she called him a big, strong warhorse and painted him with things besides flowers and butterflies; Havik wore that paint like a badge of honour. This girl liked to play pretend, too, and sometimes when they rode down to the river to collect water, she'd tell him stories where the two of them left on a conquest to get rid of anyone who threatened their way of life. And Nimbus could come, too, of course.

All that was nice, until the time actually came to defend their people. Havik would have stayed and fought, but as it turned out, war was scarier than he'd ever thought it would be. In the skirmish, Havik lost his girl and his parents, and watched as Nimbus was trapped with ropes and pulled off by the invaders who managed to subdue him no matter how much he fought. The whole experience left Havik shaken as he was finally forced to escape with a small group of horses led by Dale.

He changed after that. The exuberant, eccentric colt seemed to have been left behind in the smoke and ashes, creating a husk of a horse who spent far too long trying to process everything. Slowly, he regained a sense of self, something much closer to what a warrior actually should be rather than his foolish idealized image.

:: Family/Relations ::
Family
Sire - Phantom, a large cremello overo with a very over-the-top and energetic nature
Dam - Lasciel, a petite bay tobiano with a flair for dramatics

Friends
Past
Nimbus; a grey stallion with whom Havik certainly, definitely, most assuredly did not have feelings for, probably.

Current
(None right now, but definitely open!)

Enemies
(None right now, but definitely open!)

Romantic Interest
None (PM me for discussion)

:: Views ::
Dale; (To be added)
Lucca; (To be added)

:: Other ::
Wind Rush

Theme Songs
Greyson Chance - Low
CANVAS - Spell It Out
Novo Amor & Ed Tullett - Alps

* * *

:: Name ::
Chenoa
:: Age ::
Nine
:: Gender ::
Mare
:: Sexuality ::
Panromantic/Pansexual
She/her
:: Band ::
Northern
:: Rank ::
Follower
:: Breed(s) ::
Quarter Horse

:: Appearance ::
Standing just over fifteen hands and perfectly proportioned, Chenoa certainly is a sightly mare. Her build resembles that of a hunter-type Quarter Horse, with sleek musculature, a powerful hindquarter, and long legs and neck. Her head is small but fits nicely on the thinness of her neck, which connects to a straight, narrow shoulder and back. She's deep through the heart girth, her legs are straight and correct. Through confirmation alone, she's a stunning little mare, clearly made for sport and suitable as a hunter or light riding horse.

Her colouring isn't anything special. Chenoa is a strawberry roan, out of strawberry roan parents, though with the amount of white mixed into her light chestnut hair suggests that she's dominant for the gene. With the way in which she's roaned out, she could almost be mistaken for a varnish Appaloosa, with the white concentrated mostly toward her back and hindquarters, but this isn't the case. Still, for such a common colour, the mare wears it well, fully enjoying the stereotype of the fiery redhead, even if it's not (always) true. Maybe it's because her mane and tail are flaxen like spun gold, rather than the matching red that they should have been; she's not totally red, so she can pick and choose when she wants to uphold the cliche.

As lovely as she is with her confirmation and colouring, upon closer inspection, one might notice that her ears are just a little too large for her head, and her eyes are just a little small, set wide on her head. It's lucky for her that the star and faint stripe disguise this fact just enough that it's hardly noticeable unless she's being finely examined. If brought up, she simply brushes it off because they're not flaws, they're uniquenesses; every horse is different, and how boring would it be if they were all the same, right? However, the irregular socks and stockings on each of her legs do little to hide the scars on her pasterns which are certainly not a result of genetics.

:: Personality ::
+Magnanimous +Ambitious +Optimistic | -Obstinate -Reckless -Thoughtless

While Chenoa's name is widely believed to mean "dove" in the language of the Cherokee, this little mare is nothing like the supposed symbol of peace and purity; instead, she's much more alike to the river that she was truly named for. Babbling non-stop to anyone who will listen and blazing her way through the path of least resistance, Chenoa has always been said to have water in her personality. She is strong-willed and bullheaded, often charging into things headfirst without thinking, though one must admire her passion to do so repeatedly until she accomplishes whatever it is she set out to do. Nothing can get in her way and nothing can stop her once she has her mind set on something, no matter what that something is.

In some contrast to her ubiquitous intransigence, Chenoa is also quite positive and upbeat. Some may find her devil-may-care attitude to be annoying, especially when she's bulldozing her way through their problems in what might seem like an insensitive manner. It's not that she doesn't care, however; it's just that sometimes she's so focused on the goal that she forgets her cause. This can be especially troubling because she likes to spend so much of her time helping others, and doesn't realize that she may be doing more harm than good. Still, Chenoa is well-meaning, and most can respect that about her, if nothing else.

:: Bio ::
It's generally understood that not every horse who leaves the camp will return. After generations of seeing it happen, it was just something that was accepted. Some even wanted to be chosen and saw it as a symbol of their perfection. Chenoa was not one of them. She had no desire to see what exactly happened to the horses that never came back, and preferred her perfectly peaceful life as a hunt horse alongside her sire to any adventures beyond the horizon. Living with the tribe was easy, she was well cared for and loved, given numerous outlets for what her favourite person called "exuberant expressiveness", and wanted for nothing. She was content with this lifestyle, and didn't even mind that it could be a little on the boring side sometimes.

Of course, it couldn't last. Nothing good ever does. When six-year-old Chenoa was traded to a neighbouring tribe, she spent months wondering what exactly she'd done wrong. These new people were rougher with her; they didn't have the softness the of experienced hands that she was used to, and judging by the state of their herd, it was clear that they really were just inexperienced. It wasn't their fault, and she could never hold it against them. That didn't mean she liked them. And it certainly didn't mean she had to cooperate.

Especially not when she discovered what their purpose for her was.

Chenoa had been traded as a broodmare, to strengthen their weak little herd. She should have figured as much when she was taken to her new home with two other mares, but it hadn't entirely clued in until it was too late. Her colt, Marlowe, was born in the spring of her seventh year, and she adored him despite the fact that the people she began to call her "captors" knew little of breeding and the diet of a mare in foal. It wasn't her son's fault that her body was permanently scarred, or that she'd lost an obscene amount of weight. For him, she did everything she could to stay positive.

Inexperienced with foals, the redhead did her best to be a good mother to him, teaching him the best places to nip humans to make them leave him alone, and showing him how best to release his own exuberant expressiveness. Above all, she taught him to be positive: one day, he would be able to make his escape, and when he did, he would know exactly where to go because she also made sure he knew the general direction back to where she was from.

With much perseverance and all of her zeal, Chenoa managed to free herself from her captors and made her way back to her home. Bedraggled and unkempt, it took the mare much longer than it should have to return after her escape; most seemed to think that she was blowing her story a little out of proportion, which was probably at least mostly true, but she didn't really mind. They could think what they wanted. The important part was that she was home, the scars on her body had healed, and upon inspection of her state, there was little chance of her ever ending up back in the hands of the careless tribe again.

:: Family/Relations ::
Family
Sire - Arroyo, a small and stocky hunt horse who was also prolific during races.
Dam - Nerida, a lithe mare who was akin to a Thoroughbred in appearance, lending most of her looks to her daughter.
Son - Marlowe, a big bay tobiano colt who looked like he might max out over 16hh.

Friends
(None right now, but definitely open!)

Enemies
(None right now, but definitely open!)

Romantic Interest
None (PM me for discussion)

:: Views ::
To Be Added

:: Other ::
Wind Rush

Theme Songs
Leo Stannard x Frances - Gravity
Anthem Academy - Good Life
Wylder - Swells

:: Name ::
Seneca

:: Age ::
8 Years

:: Gender ::
Male // Stallion
[Identifies with he/him pronouns]

:: Sexuality ::
Heterosexual & Heteroromantic

:: Band ::
Nothern Band

:: Rank ::
Band Leader

:: Breed ::
Lipizzaner

:: Appearance ::
A tall, imposing stallion, Seneca stands at 16.5 hands at his withers. He has a fairly lithe build and long legs, allowing for swift, elegant movements. He carries himself proudly when he walks, holding his head high and taking long strides. Though he may not look like it at first glance, he has well-built, muscular shoulders and hindquarters, and he easily weighs 1,150 pounds, making him a formidable opponent in battle. His withers are slightly on the broader side, and his neck is sturdy and arched. His head is long and slightly convex (bent, pointed downwards). His coat is a beautiful, silvery-gray shade so light that some mistake him to be white from afar. His tail is cream in color, and his mane is a darker silver. His eyes are deep brown and expressive.

:: Personality ::
Seneca is a well-spoken stallion, with elegant words to match his appearance. Many would describe him as being silver-tongued, and he's known for being persuasive and eloquent. He can also be quite the charmer if there's a particular mare he's interested in. He's a calm horse, one who rarely ever gets mad. Even though there are several things that might irk him, he's good at keeping his cool. It's this calm aura that he has about him, plus his way with words, that makes other horses trust him more easily than they perhaps would when speaking to someone else. He's intelligent and very curious about the world, especially the ways of humans. Though he sometimes wishes he had more time to explore the lands and make new discoveries, he always puts the wellbeing of his band first and would never leave them.

He's courteous to everyone, but is a bit more rigid and guarded about what he says to outsiders. He's much more friendly and good-humored when he's with the members of his band. He won't hesitate, however, to put someone in their place if he thinks they're acting out of line. He's a very determined stallion, and once he has his mind set on a task he won't stop until he's completed it. Unfortunately, this leads to him becoming stubborn, and he may continue pursuing a goal even if it is clear he most likely won't succeed. He also likes to have everything planned out, and while he can come up with solutions to issues quickly on the spot, it does stress him out if he doesn't have time to ensure it can be carried out correctly.

:: Bio ::
Born into the Tribe, Seneca had a bit of a complicated start in life. There was a complication during his birth because it had turned out that his mother was pregnant with twins. Twin births in horses are rarely successful, so the members of the tribe weren't sure if any of the horses would survive the birth, but, after a long time waiting in suspense, both Seneca and his mother miraculously survived the birth. Seneca's twin sister, however, had not. The tribe members kept a careful watch on Seneca for the next few months, worried that he might not be as healthy as the other foals, but he soon proved that they needn't fuss over him. He grew into a tall stallion, his coat lightened to a beautiful shade of grey. He was soon given to a well-respected member of the tribe as his Personal horse, and though he didn't often go on hunts because his light coat gave his position away, he became a sort of show-horse. His owner always chose to ride him when meeting with other tribes or attending important events.

When the strange, new people raided the camp Seneca was ridden into battle, but his owner was quickly felled, and he went to find his parents. He couldn't find his father anywhere, and he had only been reunited with his mother for a few minutes before she was accidentally shot in the crossfire while they were trying to escape, forcing Seneca to leave alone. Once the dust from the battle had settled he rounded up what horses he could find, saying they had a better chance of survival in a herd, and moved them to the Northern territory.

:: Family/Relations ::
Father - Amadeus - Status Unknown
Mother - Flyta - Deceased [Shot]
Sister - Aleta - Deceased [Stillborn]
[Open for friends/enemies/possible love interest. PM me!]

:: Views ::
Asher: Seneca thinks he still has a lot to learn before he is ready to take over, but he sees his devotion to the band and is happy that the Leader after him will be such a kind-hearted one.

:: Other ::
Wind Rush
Theme Song - Promiseland by MIKA



:: Name ::
Isi

:: Age ::
7 Years

:: Gender ::
Female // Mare
[Identifies with she/her pronouns]

:: Sexuality ::
Heterosexual & Heteroromantic

:: Band ::
Southern Band

:: Rank ::
Follower

:: Breed ::
Andalusian Horse [PRE]

:: Appearance ::
Isi is probably one of the smaller horses in her herd, standing at just about 14.4 at her withers and weighs just under 900 pounds. She's very sturdily built, her long, broad neck running down to well-defined withers and a wide chest. She has an energetic gait, walking with quick, yet fairly short strides. She has great stamina and can maintain a gallop for a long time. Unlike many other horses that resemble Andalusians, her coat isn't gray. Instead, it's a beautiful bay color that has a healthy, lustrous sheen. She has two short, white socks on her hind legs, and she has a white blaze on her nose and forehead. Her black mane and tail are thick and glossy. Her mane is of medium length, but will sometimes fall forward to cover her eyes.

:: Personality ::
Though still a fairly young mare, Isi is mature beyond her years. She's very soft-spoken and even-tempered, friendly to everyone in the Southern band and, often, even those outside of it. She has a big heart and cares deeply for everyone, and wherever she can she'll try to help others out or cheer them up if they look down. Others often come to her for advice because she's so helpful and non-judgemental. But one of her most defining traits is probably that she's very maternal; she's great with foals and hopes to have some of her own one day. Secretly, she worries that she may be unable to have a foal of her own, because of her previous miscarriage, but she usually ends up convincing herself she's being paranoid whenever she thinks of it. She's loyal to her band and loved ones.

Knowing all this about Isi, most horses wouldn't be surprised to learn that she's quite the pacifist. She disapproves of violence, and will only use it as a last resort. She can also be much too trusting, to the point of naivety in some cases. She always chooses to see the best in other horses, and although it's the reason she's so friendly to everyone and is generally likable, it can also be her downfall. Her trusting and positive nature makes her easy to manipulate, and there have been some cases where her friendliness has been taken advantage of. What's more, she tries not to hold grudges, and may even give second chances to those who have wronged her.

:: Bio ::
Though Isi was born into the tribe she never knew her father; her mother had come back pregnant after one of the seasons where she had been released, probably mated with a wild stallion. She doesn't mind this, very much, however, and had a good upbringing. Her mother was gentle and caring with her, and the two grew a strong bond. So it pained them both greatly when Isi was given to another tribe as a gift at the age of three. She was to be used as a broodmare, and though she was a tad bit young for it, she didn't mind very much because she was fond of foals, and her handlers at this other tribe were not harsh with her. Aside from being away from her mother, her time away from her birth tribe was alright. She had her first pregnancy and was anticipating the arrival of her foal when she had a miscarriage seven months in; a tragic and painful event that led to her being sent back to her original tribe, claiming there was something wrong with her.

Though she was frazzled and confused about both the miscarriage and the sudden move, and was still recovering from the whole ordeal, she was reunited with her mother; something she really needed at that time. She was made a hunting horse then, and a couple months into the job the tribe members began to see that she had great stamina, and perhaps potential to win races. So they decided to try it out, and while she had an average performance in the shorter sprints, she did exceptionally well at the long distance races. She was soon made into a Game Horse, an interesting role that she enjoyed for a good few years before the tribe camp was raided. She wasn't able to find her mother in the chaos, and after she escaped the first horse she found was Dale. Relieved to have found another from the tribe, she quickly joined his band.

:: Family/Relations ::
Father - ??? - Status Unknown
Mother - Laila - Status Unknown
[Open for friends/enemies/possible love interest. PM me!]

:: Views ::
Will add these once there are more members in the Southern Band.

:: Other ::
Wind Rush
If someone wants to roleplay her mother just let me know. She'd be around 12+ years old. I have a set name for her in the 'family' section, but it can be changed, of course. :)