Loucetios - Horse

Player Information

Player Alias: Lou
Player Age: Old enough ;)
Player Gender: Male
Player Contact: Contact me here. 
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Character Information

Name:
Loucetios (Loucet)
Age:
5 years (Adult)
Gender:
Stallion
Species:
Domestic breed feral Friesian. 


Character Image




Physical Description:
Loucetios is a very large stallion, standing at nearly 18 hands high and weighing in at 1600 lbs. His frame is muscular, well toned, and sleek. His pelt, mane, feathers, and tail are all pitch black in color. There are very few scars to mar his looks, and those that are visible are faint. Eyes of a dark red amber highlight his face and give him a mincing, but captivating appearance. His mane and tail are usually messy, blown by the wind.


Personality:
Not a nice guy. At least, that's what most say about him. He's arrogant, hard headed, and mean. He isn't afraid to draw blood in a fight, and has also been known to kill other animals just for the fun of the game. Despite this, his manners are actually decent. He can appear to be noble, elegant, and even kind if he wants you to follow him, but it's all a ruse. He'll turn on you in a heartbeat if you piss him off.

Being a stallion, he does enjoy the company of mares now and again, but that isn't a limitation. He'll also go after another male if they suit his fancy.

His ambition is to build a herd. One that will follow his every order, heed his every whim. Die for him if he should will it. To claim a large swath of land somewhere in the south of Ironvale. Possibly in the grasslands.



History:
Since the very beginning, when the great cataclysms struck the earth there have been survivors. Survivors of nobility and strength. Having stuck together through years of mending and keeping the bond passed from generation to generation. The first Frisians, the great ancestors of the herd had set laws upon all members. Never should their noble blood be mixed with outsiders. When stallions came of age, they could chose a mate from within the herd, and females were not permitted to chose, or to bare foals from any other than their claimed mate. That is how they lived, and the bloodline survived.

Loucetios' dam was a mare named Aveta, a beautiful young thing with a pretty face and dainty build. His sire a stallion named Segomo. He was the epitome of strength. Perhaps that's why he'd taken over as leader of the herd just before Loucetios and his sister were born. The poor filly never did receive her name. She had the unfortunate luck to have been born locht. Defective. This happened quite a bit. About every third foal born suffered some kind of deformity. The elders had said that it was because they were cursed in the womb. locht foals were killed soon after they were born. Their bodies were drug to the edge of the territory and left for the carrion eaters to find.

The colt grew nicely. Aveta was a doting mother, and loved him very much. Segomo wasn't as soft. He showed very little love for his son, but did make an effort to spend a little time with him each day. Most of it was training. Battle training was intense, even for young stallions. Mares were kept away from the fighting as much as possible, but there were a few who took pride in participating in the fights. Scars from old wounds had made them ugly, and repeated injury had made them barren. They were just as harsh as the stallions.

Every season the training sessions would get longer. Loucet had grown to enjoy this. His time in the pit was rough, and hurt a lot, but it also taught him more lessons than he could count. The pit was a large section of ground that seemed to have dropped, creating sheer walls on all sides. The only way in or out was through a narrow passage that only one horse could travel at a time. It wasn't too deep, but it made the perfect training area. The chief, Segomo, and his best fighters would always stand around the top, watching from above to judge the fights.

They were taught to use their hooves and teeth, but in the pit, you weren't allowed to break skin. If skin was broken, the fight would be called. Most of it was throwing their own weight around. Unbalancing your opponent so that they would fall. Once down, you'd have to pin them. Last horse standing wins.

Young horses were often paired off with others around their age or size. Adults were paired off with other adults. Sometimes two or three at a time. Loucet loved to watch the adults fight. They were so good, and it was easy for him to pick out their moves and figure out how to adapt them to his own use. He won many of his own battles that way.

One evening while the herd was grazing, a loud screech called everyone to attention. A predator had entered the territory. The guards hadn't picked up it's scent, and nobody had seen it until it was too late. A huge bear loomed over the figure of a dead horse. Segomo sounded the attack. The battle erupted so quickly that Loucet barely had time to realize what was happening. All of the guards and warriors had charged the bear. His eyes were glued to the scene that played out before him. Horses struck and kicked, bit and battered the bear from all directions. It hadn't run. It'd just stood there over it's kill. Now it fell, broken under hoards of hooves as they crushed it into the ground.

His father's voice rang out above the clatter of hooves. "Enough!"
His horses retreated, snorting and still visibly angry. Segomo turned to his son. "Come". He followed without question. The bear was a bruised and bloody mess. It's pelt matted and sticky, it's skull crushed. A horse's leg lay broken beneath it's massive face.
Slowly the colt circled around to find out who had been killed. He stared down at the face of Aveta. His mother had been the bear's victim.... It was strange. The colt felt nothing. There was no sadness for her. No grief. Only a nauseating anger. Not at the predator who killed her. No, he was angry at her.

"She was weak..." The colt whispered.

Segomo's eyes widened as he looked at his son in utter disbelief. "She was your mother!"

Loucetios glared evenly at his father. Why should that matter? A weak horse was useless to the herd. "And?'

The chief snorted angrily, thrashing his head and stomped away.

Training continued the next day. The colt fought harder than he'd ever had in his life. Segomo had set up up against a much larger stallion. He'd said it was a test of strength and will, but this was more than that. The other stallion was fighting full force. There didn't seem to be any rules in this battle. Blood dripped from the colt's forehead. He'd grown, sure. He was nearly the size of the other stallions now, but this brute he was fighting was only a little smaller than the chief himself.--- The fight lasted for two hours. Both horses did not come out without injury. The colt stumbled out of the pit with a large gash on his forehead, a bloodied nose, swollen hind leg, and several bite marks that had torn out all the hair. Thankfully they'd not ripped flesh. The stallion followed a little more slowly. His foreleg was bleeding badly, sliced open from elbow to knee. Blood dribbled down his face from an empty eye socket. Bite marks and hoof prints lined his body. Loucet had won the fight, much to his father's apparent ire.

------

Seasons had passed, and many more battles had been fought. Some won, some lost, but none like the one from that day. These had all been normal training battles. The colt had grown into a fine young stallion. Big and strong, with the same frame as his father. Their relationship had become even more distant since Aveta's death.

Loucet had begun wandering in his free time. Roaming to the edges of the territory and playing his new favorite game. He'd storm over the hills, pounding the ground into a dusty mess and scaring the rabbits from their burrows. Once they were out, he'd give chase. They were amazingly fast, and he had to push himself to his limits, but sooner or later they grew tired. Many a rabbit had been smashed under his hooves by now. Their bones littered the ground.

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"You may now chose a mate. Pick your mare." Segomo snorted, swinging his head towards a small group of sturdy looking mares.
Loucet narrowed his eyes as he inspected them. None of them were very appealing. Most of them were quite a bit older. He paused and scowled in dismay. One of the mares was squat, having legs that seemed way too short, a flank that was altogether too skinny, and a crooked nose. He found himself wondering how in the world she made it past birth with defects like those. The mare stared at him nervously. he leaned closer. "locht."
The mare's eyes widened and she backed away with her head down, then turned and ran.

Loucet smirked, turning to look at the next. This one was decent looking. Her form was good, and she looked strong. Certainly she was older than him, but... She had promise. We would make nice foals. He thought as he circled her, giving every inch of her a long, hard look. Yes. We certainly could.

Be barely had to give the rest a glance before he went back to her. "You'll do." He huffed flatly.

She didn't seem pleased, but dipped her head and let their chief give his blessing.

Her name was Sirona, and they had lived as bonded mates for an entire season now. Anger surged in Loucetios. An entire season and still she would not let him breed her. Every time he tried she'd run. At first he'd thought it had been a game, but no. It had continued way too long for that. He was persistent, but she was not willing. She was not obedient. That, above all else made him angry.

------

It wasn't long after that, that he'd taken up to wandering farther from the territory. It was there that he'd found other mares. Different types of mares. Two he had scared away with his harsh nature, but the others.. The others he'd played like a game. He'd put on a nice little act for them, and won his prize. After getting what he wanted, he'd leave and go back to the herd.
This continued for an entire summer.

He came back one day to find the herd gathered. Segomo was speaking. "Sickness has found it's way into the herd. Two have already fallen ill, and it is taking their strength quickly. You MUST stay away from twin boulders. That is where they have holed up for the time being."

For three days everything seemed fine. Everyone stayed away from twin boulders, just as they'd been warned. However, on the fourth day, the sickness returned. Three more fell ill within the next few hours. The sickness was spreading. Warning came back that the first two were already dead.

The young stallion stayed away most of the time, only coming back when he had to, and stayed as far away from the main group as possible.

The sickness continued to spread through the herd like wildfire, taking down six more by the time Loucet decided to leave. He would not return to the herd, or that territory. He'd tried to reason with Segomo. Tried to tell him that it would be better to leave the territory and move elsewhere, but his father would not listen.

"Let it kill them all. What do I care?."


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~Sample RP Post ~
Clouds of dust and ash swirled on the wind that rushed through thick fur. Huge wings stirred the air, beating nearly silently. Iridescent blue eyes scanned the ashen landscape below, picking out tiny movements of tree and brush where other creatures moved through the woodland. The only truly green area for hundreds of miles. It seemed... Out of place here. In this wasteland of death, decay, and destruction.

It had been weeks since the alpha had patrolled this area. Not many wolves lived around here anymore. Most had either traveled farther away, or died after escaping captivity. Hunting was difficult in such a place. Prey was hard to find, and even harder to catch. Here though, in this forest that provided plenty of shelter and natural food, they seemed to flock. But that also meant predators would be lurking as well.

Feathers ruffled as his wings tilted, slowing his flight and causing descent. From here he could skim the treetops and continue his patrol.

Spring had brought new leaves to the forest, making it slightly harder to see through the scraggly foliage. Suddenly a flash of white streaked between the trees below. He'd only caught a glimpse. Wheeling around in a wide turn, he managed to target the object again. Another pass over revealed a canine form.

His nose twitched, drawing in musty forest scents mixed with ash and prey, and just the slightest hint of another predator. Wolf.