APPEARANCE

Breed: Andalusian
Gender: Stallion
Age: 5 years old
Race: Equine
Eyes: Right eye is brown, right eye is blue (blind in this eye)
Mane: Black, average length
Body: Dark bay, somewhat chocolatey. Often he is very dirty looking, and looks like his might be splattered with mud even when he isn't. He has a rugged scar about 8 inches long over his humerus on the left (blind) side. Everything about him says 'nondescript, average'.
Hooves: Normal, black.
Markings: None
Tail: Black, average length
Small item: Eagle talon through the outside edge of his left ear. From a bird he killed and mutilated.

PERSONALITY

From first appearances - lackluster, zombie-like. He's not mute but he's much more likely to silently observe for awhile before speaking up. He hasn't had a lot of happiness in his life, so he tends to feel more empty and sullen. Though he has potential for serious depth of emotion, he's locked his broken heart away. His general attitude toward others is civil, but a snide comment or muttered insult shouldn't be a surprise.

LINEAGE

Parents
Noble (sire) x Taiga (dam)

Mate
None

Offspring
None

HISTORY

Canaan was born to lead stallion of his herd, Noble, and his mate, Taiga. His early life was peaceful and happy as he played with the other foals in the herd, though he was an only child. Though he was born blind in one eye, he was treated equally among his peers (though this might have been due to being the child of the lead stallion). He was on his way to being a well-liked, well-rounded colt. One evening when he was only nine months old, while the herd was asleep in the meadow where they normally gathered, a rival herd approached. It was sudden - an ambush. There was no warning, no hints that an attack would be coming. The tension between the two herds had been low. It was a slaughter. Canaan's herd was decimated. He awoke to find hooves flying around him, like daggers slicing through the night. He watched his mother fall next to him, a well-placed kick to the head dropping her in one blow. It was madness. Something emboldened the attackers, strengthened them, and in hindsight Canaan wondered if there was some sort of voodoo magic that made them so capable in slaughter. In his escape, a hoof left a jagged cut along his arm. Body after body fell around him as he hid among the trees. His father fought back but was felled quickly by the other lead stallion. Blood was everywhere. As he watched, Canaan thought he saw the other herd animals.. eating.. the fallen. But that was impossible - not only are horses not cannibals, they aren't carnivores! Nothing about it made sense, and the young colt fled into the darkness, blinded by tears. If there were other survivors, Canaan knew nothing about them. He never found a single surviving member of his herd, his family. And so he ventured on his own, doing the best he could to make it through the summer. It wasn't smooth sailing, and it seemed at times that he wasn't going to make it. He was smart enough to keep his cut clean, though the jagged edges meant that it left a brutal looking scar. By winter, however, he was strong enough and smart enough to find food and shelter, and take advantage of the generosity and hospitality of those he met along the way. From then, it was about taking care of number one. Scarred from that night, he never felt safe or comfortable with any herd he found. Eventually burying those feelings, he hardened himself and became more of a loner, a wanderer. Never staying in one place for long, he became a lost soul traveling nowhere.