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Ok...I hadnt meant to write this much but...it just happened.... Big thanks to thunderjam12 for letting me borrow her character Mira <3 (not that I think Mira noted the big brute checking her out). *winkwink*

So...this is my bid for ballenclieff s yearling auction. I have no clue if the sire is named the way I thought he would, but that is the way my story goes anyway. Horse detail is below the monster text so if you want to look at that its just to scroll doooooooown

The Ballenclieff Yearling Auction (open)Welcome to the Ballenclieff's inaugural yearling auction. We will be selling yearlings out of our own stock. This is a public sale, and will be happening at the Ballenclieff estate. The yearlings are available to view in the weeks leading up to the sale, along with the dams and sires. Some siblings are also available to view for comparison.
The Ballenclieff Mantra
"An ideal Ballenclieff yearling is willing, sweet natured, and toughly made. They spend most of their first year living on the range in the herd. They are raised on rough Scottish hills, and through classic Scottish weather, making them strong, adaptable and hardy. They are raised like native ponies. At a year they begin their basic ground manners, while still spending a good amount of time outdoors and range-raised. The Ballenclieff aims for a sound, healthy individual, with good feet and good heart.
At the time of auction, the yearlings have basic ground manners, started lunging and have experienced hand walk

WC: 2426
The horse is reffed from a pic I had saved on my computer but I cant remember from where.
Horse design ballenclieff

-------------------------

“You say I should buy this colt? Why?” Darcy was slightly cranky this morning, not his normal ‘cheerful’ self Christopher noted. It was probably a combination of things. The late hour of the flight plus the delays over the pond from America to Scotland the evening before that was still causing the well dressed man a bad case of jet lag. Then the recent family accident didn't help his bosses mood any Christopher guessed. “What make him-” Darcy nodded in direction of the colt that walked at the far back as number eight in the line of yearlings that now walked towards the paddock that would give potential buyers a chance for a closer look. “-so damn special? Don't I already own a youngster by that colt’s sire? Out of the mare you said I had just HAD to ship over here to make that breeding possible. I don't get the obsession with all that chrome like everybody else seem to get all excited over... Are the industry about racing freaking dairy cows now? Forget match races between greats like Seabiscuit and War Admiral. Now its Daisy vs Ferdinand? What will be the next TC grand prize I wonder? Forget the roses, now it will be one of those giant cow bells they have in Switzerland or something?! Cling-clang-clong? Wouldn't that be just fitting for these race cows?” Darcy shoved his hands into his overcoats pockets as he glared up to the sky. The weather had shifted as it often did in Scotland. It had begun nice with sun on their way here. As they exited the car there had been a few drops of rain but now the sun was out again but it wasn't very warm. Not compared to Kentucky. At the horizon he had seen some dark clouds so they would probably have more than just a few drops of rain later.

Christopher Durant just smiled, shook his head ignoring his boss ‘tantrum’, he didn't turn his eyes away from the horse walking towards them. Ney, not walking, some of the horses almost hovered, skittered, almost flying around their handlers like living kites. And number eight... Alert ears that was never still, eyes blue as the sea surrounding this land, unafraid and almost challenging the crowd. He moved his legs like a star dressage horse, in rhythm, a performer with all eyes on him. One might think for youngsters that had lived pretty much a all natural horselife, romping over the scottish green meadows, not like the thoroughbred pampered beyond imagination in America, suddenly seeing this much people might freak them out a little. Sure they might act a little bit nervous but what youngster wouldn't be? These horses while groomed from ear tip to hoof, still looked more like tidied up cousins from the country if compared, pondered Christopher. They were already more bulky than most US born yearlings to his eye, even the fillies. But they were well handled and knew the basic stuff. Running over these hills had to give stronger bones than their american counterparts.

After seeing the photos taken on the studs website of the horses, he knew he had to take his boss here to see the horses in person. He had actually looked at some of the other yearlings but...he had always come back to Scrum. Luck had it that Darcy was to go to France for a meeting and the whole auction date fitted well with the time frame Darcy had to spare. What had tipped his boss over the edge was the fact he could get a future star on his hands for less what he had paid for the ready to race stallion - that he just owned 50% of so far. Even the stud themselves had pointed out each horses qualities but had - between the lines - what it seemed like for Christopher - a especially good eye towards this colt and to others - as future racehorses.

However they were not the only ones. It was a old habit of his, checking the exits, checking the people there, searching for things that stood out. He trusted his gut on these things but as it were now, he didn't see anything that worried him. Out of the people in the crowd he noted Mirabelle Lee, from the BCC crew. She more than likely had no clue on who he was but he knew well who she were. Not that he had stalked her or anything, his large frame wasn't one that magically blended into a crowd. But he knew how to vanish if he wanted to. However sometimes the best way to vanish was to be in plain sight. He looked more like anything but a breeding slash sale manager..but he was dressed like one, his limp could well have been one caused from a fall...and not an explosion.

For most studs there would be more people handling the tasks he had on his table, but Darcy was...while not cheap, he was not one to waste anything. Darcy saw no point in having more people than he needed for the moment, and thus he was in charge of both the young and future prospects. At times it made life hectic, but he didn't mind. Following her gaze Christopher soon realized that she was eying the number eight colt as well. Mm...figures. BCC had a nose for picking out winners even early in development. They had before, and they were now. The owner was especially so...how many grand winners had come from BCC over the years? In fact most of their own stock was based on BCC bloodlines. He had been a lot younger when he followed the races on tv seeing those familiar silks, at a time when the stud was run by the current owners mother. He had even been lucky to have been present to see one of the big ones run. That was before he... The large man sighed. Shook his head to get rid of that memory. Not the place for that.

“If you don't buy him he will be the competition your horses will face next year. Trust me. It doesn't matter you already have a colt by Munnoch. This colt has good blood on both sides and I know you will regret not even trying... But, it's a gamble sir, every step of the way in this game. Buy, not buy, win....or lose. Today however you have the choice to pick a future winner...” Christopher Durant knew he was bad to put it out like this, but he also saw this colt in the future. Solid enough to be of interest to both the racing world as well as the rest of the equine sports world.

Darcy grumped. If it was something he hated it was losing. It didn't really matter what it was, big or small. He wasn't a ‘bad’ loser per say, he just didn't like to BE the loser. He was also expected to excel in everything he did. His brothers accident had made it even more so...if Charles died he was expected to pick up the reins even more when it came to the family businesses, it was much that rested on his shoulders. Georgina had taken the accident quite badly since she had been with him when it happened. The youngest of the Darcys, the only girl, had been pampered since she was born and especially since she was ‘weak in the nerves’ as the term would have been back in the day. She had rarely left her room before and now she had sunken even deeper into herself. But she was at home where she was safe.

“So...what do you know...I expect you to have studied these horses well to give me some detailed information, Durant...” Christopher Durant was one of the few of the ‘common folk’ Darcy sort of respected, due to an event in the past. That plus the fact that the man gave an impression of one you shouldnt mess with, like a bodyguard and standing at his side made others avoid Darcy too. It suited him just fine now. While being almost the same height, Durant definitely had more ‘body mass’ to his frame than Darcy had himself.

Scratching his 5 o’clock bearded chin Christopher Durant then looked away from the horse's for a moment and out over the rolling hills beyond the courtyard. The trees nearby had slowly begun to change colors. Autumn was fast approaching and it was beginning to feel a bit nippy in the air. Perhaps also something the horses felt, acting a bit frisky all of them. Then again, they were young and just like human youngsters it was hard to concentrate on a task at times.

“Scrum’s sire, Munnoch was a frontrunner and pacesetter. From the races I saw from his active days he wasn't that fast out of the gates but he runs like a freight train when he gets going. He seemed quite competitive. The youngsters beside the one we already own seem to be quite big in size and might just as well excel in lets say other equestrian sports like eventing-”

Now Darcy interrupted him, to Christopher it looked like the man was freezing, looking as ruffled up as a hen locked out of the coop in winter. “I don't want a eventer, Durant - I want a good race horse!”

To this the tall bulky man just chuckled, holding up his hands. “I'm just mentioning this in case the horse wouldn't run the way we hope, sir...as a possible second option. Anyways, the drops of Distorted Humour I suspect give his offsprings a good dose of longevity and toughness that will make us able to start early with him, but at the same time give a good shot at a long and hopefully successful career. People want to see sound animals in the sport, there is no need to give the naysayers more fuel on how cruel the sport is.”

Now both men looked at the colt that were of interest as he passed them by. The handler seemed used to the colts wild antics because he didn't become angry as the colt danced at his side. The colt tossed his head like to get his forelock out of the way, and Christopher couldn't help but picture some 60ies highschool boy gang leader, one used to get his way, both with his gang and girls as well as everybody else. He wasn't one that took crap from anybody. The gleam in the colts blue eyes told the all-in-all manager of Pemberley Stud that he was both clever and cunning, and a colt you would have to really work with. If you offered him the pinky he would without a doubt take your hand and not be the least sorry for the fact. He was the type that you couldn't cuddle with, he was a working animal and the only way to get his respect was to earn it not through treats.

The handler did his best to square the colt up properly so the crowd could get a better look at his yearling frame but one of the other horses in front then suddenly shied to the side, spooked by a small flock of starlings the attention shifted away from number eight. And number eight noted this, and he was not happy. From having stood like a seasoned showhorse, knowing quite well he was admired the colt snorted. He hadn't been spooked by the birds and the attention he noted was no longer on him. A shrilly whinny sounded from him as he semi reared, making his hander who seemed to have been taken off guard, almost lose the grip he had on the lead. It was not an attempt to get truly away however, no - the colt simply wanted the attention back at himself, to be in the limelight again. Christopher glanced at his boss who seemed to look at the horse quite intently. The horse looked back at Darcy, square in the eye. Perhaps they were more alike than his boss knew. Christopher leaned closer, whispering like he was trying to describe a 17th century painting at the museum for someone who had no clue about that style of art.

“You see that he is built like the classic image of a racehorse, only much bigger than the average height. I suspect he will grow into a almost giant. He is the biggest of these guys at least and they are just yearlings. I know that he is bred for turf but with a monster like this I suspect he can take on anything you assign him on. Scrum is half to the Grade 2 stakes placed Aggrafeena and-”

Once more Darcy interrupted, looking slightly annoyed. “Scrum? What sort of name is that...it's like you are about to say...scrotum or something. I thought that type of names were not allowed by the JC?” Durant shook his head “No sir, it's short for scrummage I think. It's a rugby term, a word used for a method of restarting the game.“ He then sensed the follow up question. “Why name a horse after something in rugby? Well, if I can have a wild guess sir, I think it's due to the sire.”

“I can't see the connection, Durant...” Darcy said “...what has a rugby term to do with scrum ... scrummage or what ever it was and the sire?” Just as patient as a kindergarten teacher just with a whole lot more bulk the buff man continued “The sire’s name, sir, his name is Munnoch, and I think he is named after a former scottish rugby player by the name Norman Munnoch. He was quite successful...”

“Hm...” Darcy huffed again. Rugby had never been a sport that he fancied. Too brutal, too primal and...too much rough contact with the other players. It was not a gentleman's sport. By now they had open up the doors to the building where the bidding would actually take place and the people walked in. Durant saw Mirabelle Lee get a place in front. Perhaps so she would be seen by the auctioneer, or rather when she would attempt to make a bid. It could also be a imitating move to scare off bidders. Who would dare to go against a star stud? But Christopher Durant didn't have that problem. He took his place beside Darcy and watched as the first yearling was led in.

-------------------------

Name: Scrum
Barn name: ...Scrum, no need to make it fancier or shorter than that
Gender: Colt
Age: 1
Breed: Thoroughbred
Projected Height: 17hh
Color: Seal brown splash
Genotype: Ee/Ata/nSp
Markings: high stockings on all legs, white rump, blue eyes
Build: Like a classic racehorse but supersized. Scrum is a long necked, long bodied, long legged colt - in short - he is big. To find a likeness for his legs you need to look at iron bars. At the auction he was the biggest by several inches, and still leaving room for him to grow and grow. He's just massive all over. *
Temperament: In three words he can be described as 'an arrogant colt' to quote his breeders words. He's an absolute work horse, but unfriendly and has a almost vulgar side as most of his dams foals seem to have. Further he is self confident, a born leader. While he thrives in a working environment he will try and get out of anything and everything if one would let him. This colt is thoughtful, clever and cunning and some would even say devilish. A true bully, and unless put in his place he has no respect for you. He’s knowns that he is extremely beautiful and think he can get away with anything because of it. If not getting the limelight and ALL the attention, he gets jealous and will nip and shove to make sure he's center stage sooner rather than later. He knows he gets praise if he wins, so he wants to win, and if he doesn't he will throw a strop or tantrum.*
Discipline: Flat racing (probably dirt, not decided yet)
Bloodlines: Munnoch x Shura , Sunday Silence

(*based on ballenclieff s descriptions)

Description
Ok...I hadnt meant to write this much but...it just happened.... Big thanks to thunderjam12 for letting me borrow her character Mira <3 (not that I think Mira noted the big brute checking her out). *winkwink*

So...this is my bid for ballenclieff s yearling auction. I have no clue if the sire is named the way I thought he would, but that is the way my story goes anyway. Horse detail is below the monster text so if you want to look at that its just to scroll doooooooown

The Ballenclieff Yearling Auction (open)Welcome to the Ballenclieff's inaugural yearling auction. We will be selling yearlings out of our own stock. This is a public sale, and will be happening at the Ballenclieff estate. The yearlings are available to view in the weeks leading up to the sale, along with the dams and sires. Some siblings are also available to view for comparison.
The Ballenclieff Mantra
"An ideal Ballenclieff yearling is willing, sweet natured, and toughly made. They spend most of their first year living on the range in the herd. They are raised on rough Scottish hills, and through classic Scottish weather, making them strong, adaptable and hardy. They are raised like native ponies. At a year they begin their basic ground manners, while still spending a good amount of time outdoors and range-raised. The Ballenclieff aims for a sound, healthy individual, with good feet and good heart.
At the time of auction, the yearlings have basic ground manners, started lunging and have experienced hand walk

WC: 2426
The horse is reffed from a pic I had saved on my computer but I cant remember from where.
Horse design ballenclieff

-------------------------

“You say I should buy this colt? Why?” Darcy was slightly cranky this morning, not his normal ‘cheerful’ self Christopher noted. It was probably a combination of things. The late hour of the flight plus the delays over the pond from America to Scotland the evening before that was still causing the well dressed man a bad case of jet lag. Then the recent family accident didn't help his bosses mood any Christopher guessed. “What make him-” Darcy nodded in direction of the colt that walked at the far back as number eight in the line of yearlings that now walked towards the paddock that would give potential buyers a chance for a closer look. “-so damn special? Don't I already own a youngster by that colt’s sire? Out of the mare you said I had just HAD to ship over here to make that breeding possible. I don't get the obsession with all that chrome like everybody else seem to get all excited over... Are the industry about racing freaking dairy cows now? Forget match races between greats like Seabiscuit and War Admiral. Now its Daisy vs Ferdinand? What will be the next TC grand prize I wonder? Forget the roses, now it will be one of those giant cow bells they have in Switzerland or something?! Cling-clang-clong? Wouldn't that be just fitting for these race cows?” Darcy shoved his hands into his overcoats pockets as he glared up to the sky. The weather had shifted as it often did in Scotland. It had begun nice with sun on their way here. As they exited the car there had been a few drops of rain but now the sun was out again but it wasn't very warm. Not compared to Kentucky. At the horizon he had seen some dark clouds so they would probably have more than just a few drops of rain later.

Christopher Durant just smiled, shook his head ignoring his boss ‘tantrum’, he didn't turn his eyes away from the horse walking towards them. Ney, not walking, some of the horses almost hovered, skittered, almost flying around their handlers like living kites. And number eight... Alert ears that was never still, eyes blue as the sea surrounding this land, unafraid and almost challenging the crowd. He moved his legs like a star dressage horse, in rhythm, a performer with all eyes on him. One might think for youngsters that had lived pretty much a all natural horselife, romping over the scottish green meadows, not like the thoroughbred pampered beyond imagination in America, suddenly seeing this much people might freak them out a little. Sure they might act a little bit nervous but what youngster wouldn't be? These horses while groomed from ear tip to hoof, still looked more like tidied up cousins from the country if compared, pondered Christopher. They were already more bulky than most US born yearlings to his eye, even the fillies. But they were well handled and knew the basic stuff. Running over these hills had to give stronger bones than their american counterparts.

After seeing the photos taken on the studs website of the horses, he knew he had to take his boss here to see the horses in person. He had actually looked at some of the other yearlings but...he had always come back to Scrum. Luck had it that Darcy was to go to France for a meeting and the whole auction date fitted well with the time frame Darcy had to spare. What had tipped his boss over the edge was the fact he could get a future star on his hands for less what he had paid for the ready to race stallion - that he just owned 50% of so far. Even the stud themselves had pointed out each horses qualities but had - between the lines - what it seemed like for Christopher - a especially good eye towards this colt and to others - as future racehorses.

However they were not the only ones. It was a old habit of his, checking the exits, checking the people there, searching for things that stood out. He trusted his gut on these things but as it were now, he didn't see anything that worried him. Out of the people in the crowd he noted Mirabelle Lee, from the BCC crew. She more than likely had no clue on who he was but he knew well who she were. Not that he had stalked her or anything, his large frame wasn't one that magically blended into a crowd. But he knew how to vanish if he wanted to. However sometimes the best way to vanish was to be in plain sight. He looked more like anything but a breeding slash sale manager..but he was dressed like one, his limp could well have been one caused from a fall...and not an explosion.

For most studs there would be more people handling the tasks he had on his table, but Darcy was...while not cheap, he was not one to waste anything. Darcy saw no point in having more people than he needed for the moment, and thus he was in charge of both the young and future prospects. At times it made life hectic, but he didn't mind. Following her gaze Christopher soon realized that she was eying the number eight colt as well. Mm...figures. BCC had a nose for picking out winners even early in development. They had before, and they were now. The owner was especially so...how many grand winners had come from BCC over the years? In fact most of their own stock was based on BCC bloodlines. He had been a lot younger when he followed the races on tv seeing those familiar silks, at a time when the stud was run by the current owners mother. He had even been lucky to have been present to see one of the big ones run. That was before he... The large man sighed. Shook his head to get rid of that memory. Not the place for that.

“If you don't buy him he will be the competition your horses will face next year. Trust me. It doesn't matter you already have a colt by Munnoch. This colt has good blood on both sides and I know you will regret not even trying... But, it's a gamble sir, every step of the way in this game. Buy, not buy, win....or lose. Today however you have the choice to pick a future winner...” Christopher Durant knew he was bad to put it out like this, but he also saw this colt in the future. Solid enough to be of interest to both the racing world as well as the rest of the equine sports world.

Darcy grumped. If it was something he hated it was losing. It didn't really matter what it was, big or small. He wasn't a ‘bad’ loser per say, he just didn't like to BE the loser. He was also expected to excel in everything he did. His brothers accident had made it even more so...if Charles died he was expected to pick up the reins even more when it came to the family businesses, it was much that rested on his shoulders. Georgina had taken the accident quite badly since she had been with him when it happened. The youngest of the Darcys, the only girl, had been pampered since she was born and especially since she was ‘weak in the nerves’ as the term would have been back in the day. She had rarely left her room before and now she had sunken even deeper into herself. But she was at home where she was safe.

“So...what do you know...I expect you to have studied these horses well to give me some detailed information, Durant...” Christopher Durant was one of the few of the ‘common folk’ Darcy sort of respected, due to an event in the past. That plus the fact that the man gave an impression of one you shouldnt mess with, like a bodyguard and standing at his side made others avoid Darcy too. It suited him just fine now. While being almost the same height, Durant definitely had more ‘body mass’ to his frame than Darcy had himself.

Scratching his 5 o’clock bearded chin Christopher Durant then looked away from the horse's for a moment and out over the rolling hills beyond the courtyard. The trees nearby had slowly begun to change colors. Autumn was fast approaching and it was beginning to feel a bit nippy in the air. Perhaps also something the horses felt, acting a bit frisky all of them. Then again, they were young and just like human youngsters it was hard to concentrate on a task at times.

“Scrum’s sire, Munnoch was a frontrunner and pacesetter. From the races I saw from his active days he wasn't that fast out of the gates but he runs like a freight train when he gets going. He seemed quite competitive. The youngsters beside the one we already own seem to be quite big in size and might just as well excel in lets say other equestrian sports like eventing-”

Now Darcy interrupted him, to Christopher it looked like the man was freezing, looking as ruffled up as a hen locked out of the coop in winter. “I don't want a eventer, Durant - I want a good race horse!”

To this the tall bulky man just chuckled, holding up his hands. “I'm just mentioning this in case the horse wouldn't run the way we hope, sir...as a possible second option. Anyways, the drops of Distorted Humour I suspect give his offsprings a good dose of longevity and toughness that will make us able to start early with him, but at the same time give a good shot at a long and hopefully successful career. People want to see sound animals in the sport, there is no need to give the naysayers more fuel on how cruel the sport is.”

Now both men looked at the colt that were of interest as he passed them by. The handler seemed used to the colts wild antics because he didn't become angry as the colt danced at his side. The colt tossed his head like to get his forelock out of the way, and Christopher couldn't help but picture some 60ies highschool boy gang leader, one used to get his way, both with his gang and girls as well as everybody else. He wasn't one that took crap from anybody. The gleam in the colts blue eyes told the all-in-all manager of Pemberley Stud that he was both clever and cunning, and a colt you would have to really work with. If you offered him the pinky he would without a doubt take your hand and not be the least sorry for the fact. He was the type that you couldn't cuddle with, he was a working animal and the only way to get his respect was to earn it not through treats.

The handler did his best to square the colt up properly so the crowd could get a better look at his yearling frame but one of the other horses in front then suddenly shied to the side, spooked by a small flock of starlings the attention shifted away from number eight. And number eight noted this, and he was not happy. From having stood like a seasoned showhorse, knowing quite well he was admired the colt snorted. He hadn't been spooked by the birds and the attention he noted was no longer on him. A shrilly whinny sounded from him as he semi reared, making his hander who seemed to have been taken off guard, almost lose the grip he had on the lead. It was not an attempt to get truly away however, no - the colt simply wanted the attention back at himself, to be in the limelight again. Christopher glanced at his boss who seemed to look at the horse quite intently. The horse looked back at Darcy, square in the eye. Perhaps they were more alike than his boss knew. Christopher leaned closer, whispering like he was trying to describe a 17th century painting at the museum for someone who had no clue about that style of art.

“You see that he is built like the classic image of a racehorse, only much bigger than the average height. I suspect he will grow into a almost giant. He is the biggest of these guys at least and they are just yearlings. I know that he is bred for turf but with a monster like this I suspect he can take on anything you assign him on. Scrum is half to the Grade 2 stakes placed Aggrafeena and-”

Once more Darcy interrupted, looking slightly annoyed. “Scrum? What sort of name is that...it's like you are about to say...scrotum or something. I thought that type of names were not allowed by the JC?” Durant shook his head “No sir, it's short for scrummage I think. It's a rugby term, a word used for a method of restarting the game.“ He then sensed the follow up question. “Why name a horse after something in rugby? Well, if I can have a wild guess sir, I think it's due to the sire.”

“I can't see the connection, Durant...” Darcy said “...what has a rugby term to do with scrum ... scrummage or what ever it was and the sire?” Just as patient as a kindergarten teacher just with a whole lot more bulk the buff man continued “The sire’s name, sir, his name is Munnoch, and I think he is named after a former scottish rugby player by the name Norman Munnoch. He was quite successful...”

“Hm...” Darcy huffed again. Rugby had never been a sport that he fancied. Too brutal, too primal and...too much rough contact with the other players. It was not a gentleman's sport. By now they had open up the doors to the building where the bidding would actually take place and the people walked in. Durant saw Mirabelle Lee get a place in front. Perhaps so she would be seen by the auctioneer, or rather when she would attempt to make a bid. It could also be a imitating move to scare off bidders. Who would dare to go against a star stud? But Christopher Durant didn't have that problem. He took his place beside Darcy and watched as the first yearling was led in.

-------------------------

Name: Scrum
Barn name: ...Scrum, no need to make it fancier or shorter than that
Gender: Colt
Age: 1
Breed: Thoroughbred
Projected Height: 17hh
Color: Seal brown splash
Genotype: Ee/Ata/nSp
Markings: high stockings on all legs, white rump, blue eyes
Build: Like a classic racehorse but supersized. Scrum is a long necked, long bodied, long legged colt - in short - he is big. To find a likeness for his legs you need to look at iron bars. At the auction he was the biggest by several inches, and still leaving room for him to grow and grow. He's just massive all over. *
Temperament: In three words he can be described as 'an arrogant colt' to quote his breeders words. He's an absolute work horse, but unfriendly and has a almost vulgar side as most of his dams foals seem to have. Further he is self confident, a born leader. While he thrives in a working environment he will try and get out of anything and everything if one would let him. This colt is thoughtful, clever and cunning and some would even say devilish. A true bully, and unless put in his place he has no respect for you. He’s knowns that he is extremely beautiful and think he can get away with anything because of it. If not getting the limelight and ALL the attention, he gets jealous and will nip and shove to make sure he's center stage sooner rather than later. He knows he gets praise if he wins, so he wants to win, and if he doesn't he will throw a strop or tantrum.*
Discipline: Flat racing (probably dirt, not decided yet)
Bloodlines: Munnoch x Shura , Sunday Silence

(*based on ballenclieff s descriptions)