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Description
04/02/2018 new art!

Lorian

From sky-tearing peaks of the sacred mountainTo secret-steep'd roots of the ancient oak treesA lonesome choir, I, song failing unanswered,Voice on wind returning, answered no more.

Astral tracker

Nickname// Lori , little bear
Age// 30
Gender / Identifies As// Male
Height// 17Hh
Species// Unicorn (bone horns)
Breed// Andalusian Mix
Orientation// ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ swings whichever way

Voice claim//
themesong// SAMARITAN - Ionnalee

Affiliation// War-Forged
Clan// The Bloody Flanks
Rank// Healer/medic, star and weather reader (calls himself a mystic)

Patron Gods// Now Prays to everyone respectively, but Kaia will always be his patron god
Talent//
Blessings// Beast summoning (Born blessed)
Zodiac// The Chimera
Drive//To belong

Mate (or lovers) // Iskalder
Children //
Parents // Desdemona | Mother | Deceased
Axial | Father | Unknown
Siblings // Elena | Sister | Deceased
Other Relations// Open for relatives and friends, possible romantic relationships 8)

Familiar |
Agatha "Aggy" | Snowshoe hare
Found barely alive during Ansgar's expedition in the snowstorm, Lorian had stumbled upon her while gathering firewood. Almost rabid at first, Lorian soon realized that the old hare was actually an imbued familiar and not at all a wild animal. Bandaging her and giving her food, Agath, or Aggy as he would soon call her slowly came to trust him. A trusted companion, Aggy is almost always seen on Lorian's back or running off looking for herbs and food.

PERSONALITY//
General overview | Lorian was always a curious child, one who stuck his snout into things he shouldn’t have bothered with. As he grew under his abusive father, he learned that it was best to keep one's emotions under wrap and to be a blank slate. Unfortunately for his father, he also learned how to talk his way of most situations (especially boring lectures). With contrary views from his mother, Lorian never really learned how to express his emotions properly and tends to seem very sporadic to others, though in reality he just doesn’t know how to interact with people in a casual manner. He’s lost in his own thoughts most of the time and quite likes it that way.

Inquisitive|impulsive|limited attention span|scattered|Tolerant|witty
Inquisitive| “The world is full of many interesting things…people”
Lorian has always been interested in the world and how things simply exist, how they are formed and what purpose they serve. Ever since he was a lad, he’s had his nose stuck in a book or deep in the grass, searching for an answer in a never ending sea of questions. This did not just steam to items though… Lorian’s always been noisier than he should be, butting into conversations and asking questions with little to no thought of the person in question's reaction.
Impulsive| “I mean...what could go wrong, right?”
Having a father telling you not to do something ten times a day for over fifteen years can lead to doing quite the opposite of what he said not to do. Always a rebel against his father, Lorian doesn’t really think before doing something and rather just dives head first, nary the consequences! Paired with his inquisitiveness, this can lead to some interesting situations.
Limited Attention span| “Hm? I’m sorry what were you saying?... you’ve been talking for awfully long”
It’s not that Lorian isn’t interested in what you have to say it’s just that, he really can’t go ten minutes without questioning something in the room or asking absurd questions that randomly pop into his mind. Sure, he loves hearing people talk and share their journeys but some people drag things on for much longer than he can stand. If you have something to tell him, better do it quick.
Scattered| “I’ve never been an organised stallion, both in body or mind”
In general, Lorian’s never been very organised. His room was always a mess, and he left a trail of dirtiness wherever he went (much to his mother's disappointment) but this tribute also affected his train of thought (or lack of) and how he presents his ideas. His mind is usually racing a million times a minute and with his limited attention span it can leave his ideas and words pretty scattered. He’s been working to better organise both his mind and his things!
Tolerant| “Everyone was raised differently and on different views from yourself”
Lorian grew up with a father that spewed nonsense about the gods, words that stemmed from fear and hatred. So of course Lorian never believed them (okay maybe he did for a bit but that’s when his soul was lost) In truth, he knew that there were and are many different beliefs about the gods and the other herds around war-forged, and he’s always been generally open to new ideas that differ from his own. Sure, he may try and argue his points as being correct but he’ll never outright tell someone they are wrong without letting them explain first.
Witty| “Oh my I’m so shocked that you got burned! Who knew that fire could do that?!”
Lorian and Elena were sassy children, especially when their father couldn’t hear them. Lorian had always been sarcastic to his father anyways, a slight smirk on his face as his father either completely missed his subtle jokes or was infuriated by them. This didn’t stop as he got older, a quick word or remark always lying on his tongue. He especially loves the ones that only he seems to understand or hear, a inside joke with himself.

HISTORY//

My mother used to say that the snow of Onea was both a blessing and a curse. It blanketed the lands in its cold grasp and snatched away all warmth, all comfort. Took lives for nought and leached the lands of their food, freezing their water and leaving the people to shiver in the dark. But in the end, it would always yield to the sun, slowly melting away into the ground and giving life to the fresh spring flowers. My mother used to tell me of how the snow fell oh so softly on the days that my sister and I were welcomed into this cruel world, almost mocking her as it’s delicate flakes fluttered slowly to the ground.As a child, I never understood how she could love and hate something so equally, without question or thought. I did not understand her words until it was far too late.
My mother’s relationship with my sire was not one of love or dedication. No, it was brokered from a deal between two respective families, both looking to gain something from the other. My sire was an old withered stallion, one with a greying pelt and piercing green eyes that could leach the courage straight out of your soul. He had survived many harsh winters, seen the rise and fall of two wives and 3 children and was now looking to settle his appetite once more. Maybe it was fate that they encountered each other in the markets of Skeldr town, the beginning of a cruel relationship that would end only in tragedy. My mother’s family had never been the wealthiest and with the interest for their sole daughter from such a baron like my sire, how could they say no? Even when my mother begged and pleaded for she did not want to marry such an old fool, to share the same breath with him each morning. It did not help her case that my sire owned a respectable farm, one which Bred some of the finest rams and spun the softest wool in all of Onea. It would not be long before they would be wed under the watchful eyes of Kaia and her strong mountain. Would not be long before my dear sweet sister entered this frigid world.
My dear sister, Elena...She was born on a frigid night under my Sire’s intense gaze. He had wished for a son but… a daughter could be bargained in just as many ways. He wanted someone who he could sell off but...it seems he had some sliver of heart left and took a liking to her. He did not want anymore children, only wanted to teach my dear sister the law of the land and how to successfully keep a farm. He loved her, in some form of the word, loved her as much as he loved the mountains; loved her enough to beat her into submission to show her her wrong doings and how to perfect her actions. Oh yes, he showed his love in more ways than one. Neither mother nor sister was safe from his harsh beatings and words. How else was the daft old foul going to get his point across? There was only one person who he did not speak ill of, that of the goddess Kaia and her mighty gaze. Oh yes, did he ever love the unicorn goddess, a shining diamond in his darkening world. But just as his love for his daughter was twisted, his love for his goddess was as well. My sire came from a long line of lunatics, all of which were never blessed in their short lives; those who were blessed living even shorter lives than the others. From a young age he feared the gods ‘blessings’ and thought them as a curse, as something that actually stemmed from Digend who used these ‘gifts’ to trick followers of the gods and bring about their untimely end. I never learned where my sire had conjured such an idea, not that it mattered to me. He was old and a fool, one who looked Kaia in the face and spat on all she had to offer. And so he taught my sister the ways to worship Kaia but to fear her ‘gifts’... My mother was not so daft, did not listen to the ramblings of a broken fool. No, when she fell with child once more she prayed to the mighty earth goddess, to protect her child and bless them so that they would not be so lost in the dark world that would be their home.
So, In enters little Lorian, the son who my sire had wanted from the beginning but now… now he could care less. He had my dear sister, why did he need someone else to spit his heretics at? So I stuck with my mother, earned her affections while my dear sister was forced to learn from my sire. She loved him, I could tell that but...there was pain in her eyes as well. Being my sire’s prodigy didn’t stop her from being a big sister to me though. She loved me just as much. Taught me how to make snowballs and how to catch frogs in the streams, showed me when the rams would fight and smack their heads together all because “they were fighting for the hand of the lady ram!” She made me smile, laugh...My sire did not enjoy her little games as much as I did. I soon became accustomed to the abuse, the harsh words. I did not react, did not fight back. I knew my dear sister would be watching, would get the brunt of my sire’s rage if I spoke up. His lessons never stuck though. I still went out and played with the toads, collected stones and bones and feathers and stuck them in my mane and strengthening horns. The beatings did not phase me. As my sire continued to ignore me and teach my dear sister his heresy, my mother had her own things to teach me. In her youth, she had trained to become an esteemed Weather Witch, only to have her dreams dashed by the brute that she called husban. She taught me how to read the clouds and the gentle lapping of waves, to feel the energy in the air crackle just before a storm. She taught me how to read tea leaves and the stars and how to gently heal the bruises and lacerations from my father, stinging but leaving little scarring. Her lessons were quiet and secluded, her words soft and assuring but hiding a sense of urgency that I knew all too well. Her most secretive lessons that were filled with her most hushed words were about the blooming power that I had been blessed with in the womb, itching beneath my fur. It had never been a secret to my mother for she was not blind. She could see how animals were attracted to me, how bunnies were unafraid to inch closer and accept my offerings, how birds were brave enough to settle on my hind quarters. She knew what lay hidden in my heart… with her gentle words, she knew how to make this flower bloom and keep me safe in the frigid mountains. My mother used to say that I had a calm soul, one that held wisdom deeper than any elder. Oh How wrong had she been.
The day my power was made known to my sire was...an eventful day to say the least. The whole family had been outside; my mother and I quietly playing in the snow together and my sire lecturing my sister about the seasons. He had been fairly calm through the day, myself only receiving a knock to the nose when I had dropped a cup that shattered on the wood floor. Occasionally I would glance over to them, watch how my sire praised or scolded my sister. I felt...a sense of loss and longing to be under his gaze as well but anger laid just beneath those feelings, an anger that had been building for many years. I didn’t realize what I was subconsciously doing, didn’t see old wolf slowly emerge from the forest. My mother had screamed, standing her ground in front of me as it drew closer, our gazes locked. It was my sire that had charged at it, using his horns to gore the wolf in the side and end it’s life with a quick stomp of his hoof. I remember the steam that poured from his nostrils as he turned, pushed my mother away and snarled at me. I do not remember his eyes, for my own were staring at the lifeless corpse of the wolf, tears brimming the edge. He know knew what my mother had done, knew of the power that resided in my heart and knew that i was tainted. That night was oddly quiet. My dear sister and I were locked in our room, my body pressed close against hers as we stared out the window at the night sky. The next morning she was to be sent off, married to a some older stallion who paid handsomely for her hand in marriage. I fought my sire, shouted, screamed, cursed. Anything to keep my dear sister here, she could not leave who would be there for him after my sire’s harsh words and she could not leave-
I had never received a blow that hard before. It had rocked me to my core and left my mind reeling, my knees slowly hitting the ground. My mother soon fell beside me, her tears long dried up. The snow fell silently as my dear sister was led away, the flakes making her coat look spotted. Oh how I missed her. It was torture living with my father, torture when my mother succumbed to a deadly virus and passed away in the night, torture when his lessons were turned to my unwelcoming ears. I knew my blessing was not a curse and knew that one day I would show him, prove to him. For years, I suffered in silence. I ached terribly, my mind and soul tired from what the cruel words that he drilled into me. I did not want to live. I missed my mother terribly and my dear sister even more, my words falling on deaf ears as I begged him to let me see her one last time, to know that she was alright. I begged and begged and begged until he finally ushered a quick ‘yes’ to my question.
I had been so excited to see my dear Elena, to see how she was adjusting and to know if she was alright. I assumed that she would have already had a child with her rich husband and had felt a glimmer of excitement in my heart. It took me three days travel and when I reached their house, I stood outside the door, fear, anxiety and happiness mingling in my heart. Would she be happy to see me? Or would I just be a reminder of the life she had used to endure. I was greeted by a child that looked much like my dear sister, a soft smile on my lips and my eyes lighting up with joy. When I asked for her I was told by the child that ‘mommy had join Kaia under the mountain’ I was stunned...my dear sister… Outraged, I confronted her husband, who snidely claimed that she had hated him, hated their child and had drowned her sorrows in liquor until she had stumbled off the cliff. I felt my rage building, felt it blister under my skin like a thousand suns. But I did not react; no, I simply left that fool, left the child that made my heart ache. I returned home, spoke little and continued to live under my sire. I was in a living hell, a soul absently occupying a corpse. I...I began to listen to my father, listen to his words and believe his false tales about the gods and their blessings. I began to hate myself, hated what lied deep in my heart. I was haunted, by both my mother and dear sister. Their words echoed in my head and with the ramblings of my father it drove me insane, it broke me. Years passed and I suffered in silence, Until one night I remembered what my mother used to say about the snow. It was her soft words that brought me back to reality, to feel sick to my stomach as I realized what I had been learning from my father-no...my sire, for that’s all what he was to me, nothing more. It was a dark evening as I prepared my father’s nightly tea, my green eyes gazing up into the sky as it began to slowly snow. I had understood what my mother had said about snow then as I added in the extract from the white baneberry plants that grew just past the border of the forest. His tea would be sweeter but he would be none the wiser. As I set down the cup and turned away, he thanked me softly before going back to his reading, the cup brought up to his lips in a swift movement. Silently, I prepared myself to leave, my mind clear. As I stood by the entrance to our home, I glanced over at the ornamental mask that hung delicately over the fireplace, a gift from my mother's side of the family. Slowly, carefully, I took it down and adorned it on my face, the metal cold against my skin. Fixing the smooth fabric around my neck and back, I glanced once more at my sire’s study before leaving the house. I doubted that he would survive, but if by some chance he did, I would not let him find me...I would never suffer under his gaze ever again.
I wandered for a long time, entranced by Onea and the vast lands I had never experienced. I loved Kaia and the ground that she had formed but I was so angry; angry at her, at my sire, at my sister and my mother. I found no solace in the goddess nor in the gift she gave me, it was only a reminder of my pain. I did not stay in Onea for long, but traveled outside it’s borders to both Eithne and Sirith… They were beautiful lands, and I took in as much knowledge as I could about their flora and fauna but...my heart yearned to return to the colds lands of Onea. It was there that I joined up with a couple of cultists for a few months… they were...different. They were stuck in a blizzard, half freezing when I had stumbled upon them. I helped them find shelter and in return they gave me food. It was strange interacting with people after such a long time. I did not stay with them long, their disdain for the gods a little too close to home. No, I continued to wander for years to come, sharpening my abilities, my trades. I became somewhat of a Mystic to those I interacted with; reading their fortunes and the stars that they were born under, giving them remedies and telling them of the coming storms. I..enjoyed it. I had been travelling along the coastal towns when I met the infamous raiders of War-forged, reading the weather to local fishermen and concocting hangover cures. It brought little money but was enough to live off of but...I wanted something else, something that the raiders seemed to offer. It was easy enough to join, my eerie mask only slightly taking them by surprise. Soon enough I was ushered into the ranks of the Bloody Flank clan. I did not raid, but instead tended to those who were injured or ill, or predicted coming storms that would only serve to defer their much-needed raids. I had called myself a mystic before, but now the idea had solidified in my head. I had found someplace where I wasn’t afraid of seeing my sire every time I turned a corner, somewhere where I could put my blessing to use and show that kaia’s gift wasn’t a curse after all. I would not let my families ghosts scare me any longer
I was stronger than my sire, stronger than my dear sister and I intend to prove that to any horse I meet. I will never let someone strip me of my soul ever again. I will not let my actions haunt me.

NOTES//
- Lorian has very bad anxiety due to the fact that he never learned if his father truly died or not. He feels paranoid that the old stallion is going to come back with avengence one days or that his family will one day haunt him again. He wears his mask to try and deter these feelings, but Lorian is never truly comfortable unless he’s in an enclosed space
- Lorian’s inspiration board

Ref!| paganstars.deviantart.com/art/…

Description
04/02/2018 new art!

Lorian

From sky-tearing peaks of the sacred mountainTo secret-steep'd roots of the ancient oak treesA lonesome choir, I, song failing unanswered,Voice on wind returning, answered no more.

Astral tracker

Nickname// Lori , little bear
Age// 30
Gender / Identifies As// Male
Height// 17Hh
Species// Unicorn (bone horns)
Breed// Andalusian Mix
Orientation// ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ swings whichever way

Voice claim//
themesong// SAMARITAN - Ionnalee

Affiliation// War-Forged
Clan// The Bloody Flanks
Rank// Healer/medic, star and weather reader (calls himself a mystic)

Patron Gods// Now Prays to everyone respectively, but Kaia will always be his patron god
Talent//
Blessings// Beast summoning (Born blessed)
Zodiac// The Chimera
Drive//To belong

Mate (or lovers) // Iskalder
Children //
Parents // Desdemona | Mother | Deceased
Axial | Father | Unknown
Siblings // Elena | Sister | Deceased
Other Relations// Open for relatives and friends, possible romantic relationships 8)

Familiar |
Agatha "Aggy" | Snowshoe hare
Found barely alive during Ansgar's expedition in the snowstorm, Lorian had stumbled upon her while gathering firewood. Almost rabid at first, Lorian soon realized that the old hare was actually an imbued familiar and not at all a wild animal. Bandaging her and giving her food, Agath, or Aggy as he would soon call her slowly came to trust him. A trusted companion, Aggy is almost always seen on Lorian's back or running off looking for herbs and food.

PERSONALITY//
General overview | Lorian was always a curious child, one who stuck his snout into things he shouldn’t have bothered with. As he grew under his abusive father, he learned that it was best to keep one's emotions under wrap and to be a blank slate. Unfortunately for his father, he also learned how to talk his way of most situations (especially boring lectures). With contrary views from his mother, Lorian never really learned how to express his emotions properly and tends to seem very sporadic to others, though in reality he just doesn’t know how to interact with people in a casual manner. He’s lost in his own thoughts most of the time and quite likes it that way.

Inquisitive|impulsive|limited attention span|scattered|Tolerant|witty
Inquisitive| “The world is full of many interesting things…people”
Lorian has always been interested in the world and how things simply exist, how they are formed and what purpose they serve. Ever since he was a lad, he’s had his nose stuck in a book or deep in the grass, searching for an answer in a never ending sea of questions. This did not just steam to items though… Lorian’s always been noisier than he should be, butting into conversations and asking questions with little to no thought of the person in question's reaction.
Impulsive| “I mean...what could go wrong, right?”
Having a father telling you not to do something ten times a day for over fifteen years can lead to doing quite the opposite of what he said not to do. Always a rebel against his father, Lorian doesn’t really think before doing something and rather just dives head first, nary the consequences! Paired with his inquisitiveness, this can lead to some interesting situations.
Limited Attention span| “Hm? I’m sorry what were you saying?... you’ve been talking for awfully long”
It’s not that Lorian isn’t interested in what you have to say it’s just that, he really can’t go ten minutes without questioning something in the room or asking absurd questions that randomly pop into his mind. Sure, he loves hearing people talk and share their journeys but some people drag things on for much longer than he can stand. If you have something to tell him, better do it quick.
Scattered| “I’ve never been an organised stallion, both in body or mind”
In general, Lorian’s never been very organised. His room was always a mess, and he left a trail of dirtiness wherever he went (much to his mother's disappointment) but this tribute also affected his train of thought (or lack of) and how he presents his ideas. His mind is usually racing a million times a minute and with his limited attention span it can leave his ideas and words pretty scattered. He’s been working to better organise both his mind and his things!
Tolerant| “Everyone was raised differently and on different views from yourself”
Lorian grew up with a father that spewed nonsense about the gods, words that stemmed from fear and hatred. So of course Lorian never believed them (okay maybe he did for a bit but that’s when his soul was lost) In truth, he knew that there were and are many different beliefs about the gods and the other herds around war-forged, and he’s always been generally open to new ideas that differ from his own. Sure, he may try and argue his points as being correct but he’ll never outright tell someone they are wrong without letting them explain first.
Witty| “Oh my I’m so shocked that you got burned! Who knew that fire could do that?!”
Lorian and Elena were sassy children, especially when their father couldn’t hear them. Lorian had always been sarcastic to his father anyways, a slight smirk on his face as his father either completely missed his subtle jokes or was infuriated by them. This didn’t stop as he got older, a quick word or remark always lying on his tongue. He especially loves the ones that only he seems to understand or hear, a inside joke with himself.

HISTORY//

My mother used to say that the snow of Onea was both a blessing and a curse. It blanketed the lands in its cold grasp and snatched away all warmth, all comfort. Took lives for nought and leached the lands of their food, freezing their water and leaving the people to shiver in the dark. But in the end, it would always yield to the sun, slowly melting away into the ground and giving life to the fresh spring flowers. My mother used to tell me of how the snow fell oh so softly on the days that my sister and I were welcomed into this cruel world, almost mocking her as it’s delicate flakes fluttered slowly to the ground.As a child, I never understood how she could love and hate something so equally, without question or thought. I did not understand her words until it was far too late.
My mother’s relationship with my sire was not one of love or dedication. No, it was brokered from a deal between two respective families, both looking to gain something from the other. My sire was an old withered stallion, one with a greying pelt and piercing green eyes that could leach the courage straight out of your soul. He had survived many harsh winters, seen the rise and fall of two wives and 3 children and was now looking to settle his appetite once more. Maybe it was fate that they encountered each other in the markets of Skeldr town, the beginning of a cruel relationship that would end only in tragedy. My mother’s family had never been the wealthiest and with the interest for their sole daughter from such a baron like my sire, how could they say no? Even when my mother begged and pleaded for she did not want to marry such an old fool, to share the same breath with him each morning. It did not help her case that my sire owned a respectable farm, one which Bred some of the finest rams and spun the softest wool in all of Onea. It would not be long before they would be wed under the watchful eyes of Kaia and her strong mountain. Would not be long before my dear sweet sister entered this frigid world.
My dear sister, Elena...She was born on a frigid night under my Sire’s intense gaze. He had wished for a son but… a daughter could be bargained in just as many ways. He wanted someone who he could sell off but...it seems he had some sliver of heart left and took a liking to her. He did not want anymore children, only wanted to teach my dear sister the law of the land and how to successfully keep a farm. He loved her, in some form of the word, loved her as much as he loved the mountains; loved her enough to beat her into submission to show her her wrong doings and how to perfect her actions. Oh yes, he showed his love in more ways than one. Neither mother nor sister was safe from his harsh beatings and words. How else was the daft old foul going to get his point across? There was only one person who he did not speak ill of, that of the goddess Kaia and her mighty gaze. Oh yes, did he ever love the unicorn goddess, a shining diamond in his darkening world. But just as his love for his daughter was twisted, his love for his goddess was as well. My sire came from a long line of lunatics, all of which were never blessed in their short lives; those who were blessed living even shorter lives than the others. From a young age he feared the gods ‘blessings’ and thought them as a curse, as something that actually stemmed from Digend who used these ‘gifts’ to trick followers of the gods and bring about their untimely end. I never learned where my sire had conjured such an idea, not that it mattered to me. He was old and a fool, one who looked Kaia in the face and spat on all she had to offer. And so he taught my sister the ways to worship Kaia but to fear her ‘gifts’... My mother was not so daft, did not listen to the ramblings of a broken fool. No, when she fell with child once more she prayed to the mighty earth goddess, to protect her child and bless them so that they would not be so lost in the dark world that would be their home.
So, In enters little Lorian, the son who my sire had wanted from the beginning but now… now he could care less. He had my dear sister, why did he need someone else to spit his heretics at? So I stuck with my mother, earned her affections while my dear sister was forced to learn from my sire. She loved him, I could tell that but...there was pain in her eyes as well. Being my sire’s prodigy didn’t stop her from being a big sister to me though. She loved me just as much. Taught me how to make snowballs and how to catch frogs in the streams, showed me when the rams would fight and smack their heads together all because “they were fighting for the hand of the lady ram!” She made me smile, laugh...My sire did not enjoy her little games as much as I did. I soon became accustomed to the abuse, the harsh words. I did not react, did not fight back. I knew my dear sister would be watching, would get the brunt of my sire’s rage if I spoke up. His lessons never stuck though. I still went out and played with the toads, collected stones and bones and feathers and stuck them in my mane and strengthening horns. The beatings did not phase me. As my sire continued to ignore me and teach my dear sister his heresy, my mother had her own things to teach me. In her youth, she had trained to become an esteemed Weather Witch, only to have her dreams dashed by the brute that she called husban. She taught me how to read the clouds and the gentle lapping of waves, to feel the energy in the air crackle just before a storm. She taught me how to read tea leaves and the stars and how to gently heal the bruises and lacerations from my father, stinging but leaving little scarring. Her lessons were quiet and secluded, her words soft and assuring but hiding a sense of urgency that I knew all too well. Her most secretive lessons that were filled with her most hushed words were about the blooming power that I had been blessed with in the womb, itching beneath my fur. It had never been a secret to my mother for she was not blind. She could see how animals were attracted to me, how bunnies were unafraid to inch closer and accept my offerings, how birds were brave enough to settle on my hind quarters. She knew what lay hidden in my heart… with her gentle words, she knew how to make this flower bloom and keep me safe in the frigid mountains. My mother used to say that I had a calm soul, one that held wisdom deeper than any elder. Oh How wrong had she been.
The day my power was made known to my sire was...an eventful day to say the least. The whole family had been outside; my mother and I quietly playing in the snow together and my sire lecturing my sister about the seasons. He had been fairly calm through the day, myself only receiving a knock to the nose when I had dropped a cup that shattered on the wood floor. Occasionally I would glance over to them, watch how my sire praised or scolded my sister. I felt...a sense of loss and longing to be under his gaze as well but anger laid just beneath those feelings, an anger that had been building for many years. I didn’t realize what I was subconsciously doing, didn’t see old wolf slowly emerge from the forest. My mother had screamed, standing her ground in front of me as it drew closer, our gazes locked. It was my sire that had charged at it, using his horns to gore the wolf in the side and end it’s life with a quick stomp of his hoof. I remember the steam that poured from his nostrils as he turned, pushed my mother away and snarled at me. I do not remember his eyes, for my own were staring at the lifeless corpse of the wolf, tears brimming the edge. He know knew what my mother had done, knew of the power that resided in my heart and knew that i was tainted. That night was oddly quiet. My dear sister and I were locked in our room, my body pressed close against hers as we stared out the window at the night sky. The next morning she was to be sent off, married to a some older stallion who paid handsomely for her hand in marriage. I fought my sire, shouted, screamed, cursed. Anything to keep my dear sister here, she could not leave who would be there for him after my sire’s harsh words and she could not leave-
I had never received a blow that hard before. It had rocked me to my core and left my mind reeling, my knees slowly hitting the ground. My mother soon fell beside me, her tears long dried up. The snow fell silently as my dear sister was led away, the flakes making her coat look spotted. Oh how I missed her. It was torture living with my father, torture when my mother succumbed to a deadly virus and passed away in the night, torture when his lessons were turned to my unwelcoming ears. I knew my blessing was not a curse and knew that one day I would show him, prove to him. For years, I suffered in silence. I ached terribly, my mind and soul tired from what the cruel words that he drilled into me. I did not want to live. I missed my mother terribly and my dear sister even more, my words falling on deaf ears as I begged him to let me see her one last time, to know that she was alright. I begged and begged and begged until he finally ushered a quick ‘yes’ to my question.
I had been so excited to see my dear Elena, to see how she was adjusting and to know if she was alright. I assumed that she would have already had a child with her rich husband and had felt a glimmer of excitement in my heart. It took me three days travel and when I reached their house, I stood outside the door, fear, anxiety and happiness mingling in my heart. Would she be happy to see me? Or would I just be a reminder of the life she had used to endure. I was greeted by a child that looked much like my dear sister, a soft smile on my lips and my eyes lighting up with joy. When I asked for her I was told by the child that ‘mommy had join Kaia under the mountain’ I was stunned...my dear sister… Outraged, I confronted her husband, who snidely claimed that she had hated him, hated their child and had drowned her sorrows in liquor until she had stumbled off the cliff. I felt my rage building, felt it blister under my skin like a thousand suns. But I did not react; no, I simply left that fool, left the child that made my heart ache. I returned home, spoke little and continued to live under my sire. I was in a living hell, a soul absently occupying a corpse. I...I began to listen to my father, listen to his words and believe his false tales about the gods and their blessings. I began to hate myself, hated what lied deep in my heart. I was haunted, by both my mother and dear sister. Their words echoed in my head and with the ramblings of my father it drove me insane, it broke me. Years passed and I suffered in silence, Until one night I remembered what my mother used to say about the snow. It was her soft words that brought me back to reality, to feel sick to my stomach as I realized what I had been learning from my father-no...my sire, for that’s all what he was to me, nothing more. It was a dark evening as I prepared my father’s nightly tea, my green eyes gazing up into the sky as it began to slowly snow. I had understood what my mother had said about snow then as I added in the extract from the white baneberry plants that grew just past the border of the forest. His tea would be sweeter but he would be none the wiser. As I set down the cup and turned away, he thanked me softly before going back to his reading, the cup brought up to his lips in a swift movement. Silently, I prepared myself to leave, my mind clear. As I stood by the entrance to our home, I glanced over at the ornamental mask that hung delicately over the fireplace, a gift from my mother's side of the family. Slowly, carefully, I took it down and adorned it on my face, the metal cold against my skin. Fixing the smooth fabric around my neck and back, I glanced once more at my sire’s study before leaving the house. I doubted that he would survive, but if by some chance he did, I would not let him find me...I would never suffer under his gaze ever again.
I wandered for a long time, entranced by Onea and the vast lands I had never experienced. I loved Kaia and the ground that she had formed but I was so angry; angry at her, at my sire, at my sister and my mother. I found no solace in the goddess nor in the gift she gave me, it was only a reminder of my pain. I did not stay in Onea for long, but traveled outside it’s borders to both Eithne and Sirith… They were beautiful lands, and I took in as much knowledge as I could about their flora and fauna but...my heart yearned to return to the colds lands of Onea. It was there that I joined up with a couple of cultists for a few months… they were...different. They were stuck in a blizzard, half freezing when I had stumbled upon them. I helped them find shelter and in return they gave me food. It was strange interacting with people after such a long time. I did not stay with them long, their disdain for the gods a little too close to home. No, I continued to wander for years to come, sharpening my abilities, my trades. I became somewhat of a Mystic to those I interacted with; reading their fortunes and the stars that they were born under, giving them remedies and telling them of the coming storms. I..enjoyed it. I had been travelling along the coastal towns when I met the infamous raiders of War-forged, reading the weather to local fishermen and concocting hangover cures. It brought little money but was enough to live off of but...I wanted something else, something that the raiders seemed to offer. It was easy enough to join, my eerie mask only slightly taking them by surprise. Soon enough I was ushered into the ranks of the Bloody Flank clan. I did not raid, but instead tended to those who were injured or ill, or predicted coming storms that would only serve to defer their much-needed raids. I had called myself a mystic before, but now the idea had solidified in my head. I had found someplace where I wasn’t afraid of seeing my sire every time I turned a corner, somewhere where I could put my blessing to use and show that kaia’s gift wasn’t a curse after all. I would not let my families ghosts scare me any longer
I was stronger than my sire, stronger than my dear sister and I intend to prove that to any horse I meet. I will never let someone strip me of my soul ever again. I will not let my actions haunt me.

NOTES//
- Lorian has very bad anxiety due to the fact that he never learned if his father truly died or not. He feels paranoid that the old stallion is going to come back with avengence one days or that his family will one day haunt him again. He wears his mask to try and deter these feelings, but Lorian is never truly comfortable unless he’s in an enclosed space
- Lorian’s inspiration board

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