The pirate had not intended to join a herd. His plan had been to come into Helovia, find his missing possessions and leave, making no friends along the way and leaving nothing but fading hoofprints in the sand to denote his presence here. Alas, fate has conspired against him. Not only has he made friends but he's located family too, and now he can't picture himself leaving in the near future even if by some miracle he does manage to track down his missing equipment.

With the threat of Kaos looming high overhead, Bartholomeo thinks the time is right to leave the outcast life behind. It is with a healthy sense of self-preservation that the antlered stallion has decided to join the ranks of a herd, to offer his services in return for their protection. That's quite aside from the fact that his favourite sister Aelfwine, brother Tilney and niece Maude all live in one particular herd - the World's Edge. He enjoys his own company, but he'd by lying if he said he didn't like the idea of spending more time with his family, being part of something bigger like during the halcyon days of his bachelor crew.

Aeflwine has told him where the Edge is, and the chimeric stag makes his way towards it one chilly Birdsong morning. His stride is a jaunty trot and he hums a tune to himself as he moves through the wilderness of Helovia, contemplating what it will be like to be amongst his own kind again. So far, his impressions of this particular branch of the land are good - it's stunningly beautiful and he can hear the sea pounding far below, reassuring him and improving his mood greatly. He couldn't imagine living inland, trapped between mountains and forest - he was born to be beside the sea, with the thunder of waves in his ears and the salty tang of brine on his tongue.

So engrossed is he in humming his tune and listening contently to the sound of the ocean that he doesn't pay attention to what's in front of him. "Oooof." He walks face-first into a giant spike of glass, glimmering iridescent in the dawn sunlight and quite clearly denoting the borders of the herdland. The stag backs away, shaking his head to clear the stars he's seeing, and observes the jagged spikes with interest. They are savage-looking things, razor sharp and deadly, and he wonders how the hell he is supposed to ask to join if he can't get past them. Hmmm. It's concerning that a herd needs such fortifications - are they often under attack, or just very safety-conscious?

Either way, there's not much the bay stallion can do but stand with a cocked leg and unleash a loud, shrill whinny for anybody inside the Edge to come and greet him.