Arihari(awe-rye-ha-re') is small. Reaching only 13.2 in height he's slender – built slim with long legs. Many of his features are soft, feminine in appearance with a distinctive youthful touch. His base colour is a golden dun with dark chestnut stripes running across his body. Lighter dunalino is painted across him in large patches. These are most notable in the way that it splits his face in uneven portions, the large marking down his neck, and across his back. Where the paint markings run down his legs there is a slight difference in the barring and stripes.

His mane and tail are two different colours that follow the pattern of his markings. Much of his mane is a rich chestnut with the occasional bit of flaxen intertwined. While much of his hair is quite long – to the point of brushing the ground – he does keep it up in messy braids in order to maintain it better. Some of his forelock is the exception to this. On his left side he has a single braid running down the length of his face, but on the left his hair is kept free. His tail matches his mane in both colour and length, and it's also kept wrapped in a messy braid.

Another notable aspect of Arihari's appearance are his oddly coloured eyes. His left is a bright pink while his right is an equally bright gold.

Lastly comes the one aspect that he isn't proud of. His horns were seated high upon his head – tucked behind his ears, and his mess of hair. It was a pair of delicate, curled spires that never had much of a chance to grow. He lost both in a tragic, deep fashion. Instead he bears twin scars with the slightest of bumps from the bone underneath. Both of these scars are usually hidden – tucked away. So far his horns have not grown back but he hopes that perhaps one day his body will repair and they will return.

* Please note that while Arihari's images depict him having feathers and an additional necklace, he does not yet have these. At this current moment he only has the shark tooth necklace.

Arihari is a generally free spirited when it comes to his own kind. While he is currently lacking horns – something of a sensitive topic – he is a unicorn. He thinks of himself as nothing else and holds onto his bloodline tightly. He cherishes what he is and holds a mild distrust of other species. Past experiences haven't lead him to have much faith but he tries to believe that everyone is an individual. He keeps to his friendly smiles and gentleness with everyone but he questions the motives of others.

He is also deeply religious of his homelands Pantheon. As he is unaware of any other gods or lore, he keeps to his beliefs. Arihari is somewhat closed off when it comes to the topic of other gods, though he assumes they also exist. He's much more content to keep to what he knows.

Before Helovia
Warnings: Violence, Discrimination
Arihari was born in a place where his people – unicorns – were shunned, looked upon as little more then forest dwelling vagrants. The city folk looked down upon them and their culture. His family was a small, nomadic group that would move between the northern forests and the southern shores as the seasons changed. Despite the cruelty they faced if they came near the cities it was a peaceful life.

He was the third child born of his parents and was unusually small compared to his siblings. They were just as rough with him in play as they were each other. His smaller build was of no hindrance and he tumbled about with his siblings as cousins. In their small group they were equal. His childhood was one of small joys and simple things. There was never a need for extravagance like those within the tall brick walls.

Some days their nomadic group with meet with more of their people. Small festivals and nights of story telling were the highlight of his years. He would dance about with other foals, squeal at frighting tales, and listen wide eyed to legends of their gods. These are the memories that he held close to his heart. But for a people shunned these good times could not last. Eventually everything began to fall apart.

Arihari was just on the cusp of his third year when he was awoken by the warning cries of their sentries. Northern mages had come in the night with their cruel spells and greed. There was an endless thirst for what his kind could offer them – not only physical labour, but the properties for their horns were valuable and highly sought after. He remembers everything in flashes – their scouts being cut down, their matriarch being violently silenced, and then a pain that seared through every nerve in his body. He doesn't even remember how he escaped, only that every muscle ached when he finally stopped running.

He was a coward for it but somewhere in his mind he can still hear his mother begging him to go. Her pleas for him to run were enough. He was a ragged mess. All too quickly he discovered that not only was his family gone, but the one marking of his people had been taken from him too. His horns had been cleaved off leaving a butchered mess behind. The wounds healed in time but his horns never sprouted from the scarred bone.

For a time he joined up with another familial group – a distant cousin who has a small family of his own. However Arihari was pitied there. For the first few days he was looked at with a great sadness, and whispered about. The once glorious festivals that he had adored in his youth quickly began to fill his stomach with dread. He was one of the people but he lost his family, his horns. He had been stripped bare and the emotional wounds refused to heal.

Eventually he left. Gathered up what little he owned and walked off towards the mountainous pass. The lands beyond were not something explored but he wanted nothing more then a fresh start.

Arrived Year Eight, Frostfall