The Noriker stallion set off in search of his fathers home. The foothills. A thick neck shook hard as he shot off at a canter. Large muscles coiled beneath his skin, rippling with intimidating elegance. The stallion rather mixed in with the scenery, looking upon his colors you would think he rose from the ground itself. His colors were nothing different than green and brown hues. Including his eyes, intriguing features none the less. Even his teeth had gnarly browns on them. Showing his age. The wear and tear of blood mixed with delicious grass.

Sooty flanks began to line with a fine amount of sweat. Cannons pushed on, hardy hooves sturdy on the green grass. Blending almost perfectly. A faithful warrior was returning. Home. Finally coming home from a long journey to the outer world of nothing. The lids of his eyes finally unglued from the iris. Eyelids folding with each blink. The creases almost majestic. A horn that protruded two feet from the point at his cranium was held proudly above him. Battle scars littered his hide. Dark muzzle cringing with each breath as he strode forward all the more. This new claim of hierarchy would do him all the better. Someone to take charge beyond the gods will.

Trinkets within his long mane and tail often found themselves touching, bringing forth a low faint sound of wood on wood. Like a knocking Wood Pecker. Buckskin base and long thick dorsal stripe beautifully placed upon him. A soul beneath that hard outer shell, a soul so hopeful and ready. He wished to fight. Longed to remember the taste of flesh and blood. Or the sound of his horn piercing the flesh of another. Miltiades did not care for your race, sex, or mindset. If you were against him you would fall. If you were with him, you would rise. Reach the top and exceed. You would become golden, just like the strips within his earthly green hair.

Miltiades stops just before the edge of the Foothills. Skidding to a halt, mud flying in all directions. Clinging to his faint fetlock hair and underbelly. A huge snort slinging snot from his maddened nostril. He exhales with a giant amount of pressure. Sides heaving with excitement. Ears hardened to a perfect tip, directly aimed for what ever was before him. Horn raised proudly to the sky. He would not leave ever again. This was his home. They would not pry him from it. Only his lifeless body would be taken from here. His soul would cling. Never ending dedication to his god, until his body reincarnated. He would arise all again.

[ooc- open to anyone, but I would particularly love for him to meet the leads.]