Ivar

Name: Ivar

Breed: Percheron x Clydesdale x Friesian x Thoroughbred x Dutch Warmblood x Appaloosa

Age: 7

Gender: Stallion

Alliance: Dark

Pelt Color: black based grey & black chimera

Mane and Tail color: Black with white stripes where the white stripes on his body meet his neck.

Eye Color:Black with silver rings around his pupil

Markings: Chimera markings, white blaze, four white socks, stripes across his face, neck and back. Darker spots on his shoulders and haunches. The black dots with lines coming out are not part of his design.

Hooves: Grey

Height: 18hh

Mental/Physical Conditions: None

Personality: Ivar is cunning, he is quick witted and he is vicious. Sharper than any blade, Ivar will find the chink in any armour and will pull his target apart from the inside out. Ivar has an almost casual authoritarian approach to his life - a contradiction perhaps yet he wears it well. On one hand he will seem like your greatest ally yet as soon as your back is turned, the truth will out. Ivar is vindictive, he will plot and scheme for however long it takes until the desired outcome has been achieved. He is a strategist, he knows the battlefield well and has the capability to lead great armies, should he ever wish to turn his hand to it. Ivar fears little, if anything. His only fear, if he was ever to tell you, is that he fears being forgotten. In his mind, what is the point in life if you leave no mark on it? Ivar has known love, in its many sick and twisted guises and in turn, has learned to love in his own sick and twisted fashion. He views love as possession and obsession, a means to an end. There is at times a childlike charm to him, something that he rarely shows as he considers it his vulnerable side, something to keep very much to himself. Ivar firmly believes that respect and fear go hand in hand, his experience has shown him that fear gives him the best results. With this, Ivar has no morals, no remorse, no empathy. He will cut any who stand before him, regardless of who they may be. (269)

History: There was no real reason for Ivar to be the way he is. Raised the youngest son of an earl, he was by far the closest in line to the throne. His father was idolised by them all, a great warrior, adventurer, a good leader. His mother, the alleged witch, was the mother to only four of the sons, yet Ivar was her favourite. She mollycoddled him, wrapped him in cotton wool to do all she could to protect him from the evil within the world. Yet as he grew, so did his vision. Ivar craved power, he craved the throne he would never sit upon. It plagued his dreams, haunted his every waking thought. He grew alongside his brothers, fighting, training, learning. Yet it was during one particular sparring match did it become clear Ivar wasn't quite right. After being taunted by another young colt about his mother, Ivar killed the colt in cold blood. He was hurried away and the herd did not speak of it, at least not to him. As time passed, his father died and his mother left in the dead of the night never to be seen again. The brothers rose to the challenge, apart from Ivar, who made his upset known over time.

It was not long after the departure of his mother, did Ivar truly begin to show his true colours. He became erratic, vicious, quick to the jugular when necessary. He found his temper shortening daily with his brothers - finding their mourning and lack of desire to change irritating. During a discussion with his brothers over the ascension to the lead of the herd, his middle brother rose to the challenge, yet Ivar was much taller, and growing ever more tired of the constant back and fourth, delivered the same fatal blow to his brother as he had done to the colt when he was younger. Even Ivar knew at that point he would not stand a chance against his three older brothers and before they had a chance to attack, he was gone. Ivar rallied up some fo the herd, persuading them to come with him and over the time, the herd grew. Ivar returned, a year or so later and reclaimed his place at the helm of the herd he had grown up in. Two of his brothers fled, the last one he kept alive, for his own entertainment of course. The herd was substantial yet Ivar wanted more, he wanted fresh blood. So he left, leaving his second in command in charge, hoping to return with more soldiers for the army. He is yet to return.