Upon arrival, the brute took note that he was taller than the rest, even if just by a mere inch. Still, that inch made him taller, heavier. Halting near the crowd, spotless gaze traced the wild patterns of one warrior. Not good for surprise attacks, he thought. Despite his bright coloring, there was still a gold-tipped weapon on his brow, perched like a crown. Caleb had learnt previously that appearances mattered little once the fight began. He focused on the bay stallion that had (presumably) released the call, beckoning them closer. Words drifted from his dark lips in the form of question and the hybrid listened intently. My name is d’Artagnan, the General of the Basin. Tell me your names and why you became a warrior of the north. The others introduced themselves one by one as Sialia (corporate), Sial (Carnassial) (warrior), Deimos (king), and . When all fell silent, the winged pegasus began his introduction.
"I am Caleb, my hound is Henrietta. My reasons for becoming a Basin warrior are similar to those of Sialia and Ki'irha," he states calmly before continuing. "I seek to protect and serve our herd in the only way I know how and feel comfortable doing," Gaze shifts around momentarily before once more fixing itself on d'Artagnan. "fighting," he concludes. The beast wonders if this is their army, if these horses are to win invasions and become unbeatable. Six horses so far, shadowy Caleb and Deimos included. His mind was elsewhere, however, wondering when their training would begin and whom he'd be facing.
but when the sun goes down he's one hell of a ride