R I C C I A R D O
The Sandman.

Even whilst he was speaking to Ned, a monochrome brute gifted with scarlet orbs and tints of the same hue upon the fringes of his silks had arrived. He guessed that by the way he spoke to the pale beast that they were old friends, or something along those lines. So many strangers, the flame-kissed beast announced to himself with a slight smile. The Sandman understood the value of knowing the majority of an area, even if it meant they were not to be considered friends - just the sense of belonging could be strengthened if he knew most of the creatures that resided in Helovia. The stranger spoke, polite and with some form of authority about him. It dawned on the sorrel sir that everyone had their past, and this one could have been a king of some sorts in his own rights, from wherever he came from. Dipping his head respectfully of the stranger, he answered in a light tone,
Greetings stranger, I am Ricciardo, a Sandman. I do not originally from here but I am part of the World's Edge herd... He trailed off with a little mental kick in his mouth, he was beginning to dislike the thought of being part of that herd. But he knew it was what he must do to make sure he wouldn't end up a lonely old brute.

The little figure of a colt had landed right beside the Sandman. Barely old enough to have left his mother's belly, the little sir hardly belonged away from her. His dual appearance of bearing a horn and wings astonished Ricciardo - so it was possible to conceive a horned and winged child? A sudden feeling of longing for a child of his own almost drove him to act as father to the little one, but he held himself back. This chap was a stranger to him, not blood-related. It'd be practically suicide for him to act in such a foolish way. The little cold spoke as he looked up into his sandy-coloured orbs, a small, terrified little greeting to the three horned brutes. The other two were asking him about his intentions of wandering so far from his mother, but he simply smiled at the little fellow and proceeded to inquire his own trail of thoughts to the little one, "No need to be afraid, little stranger. Having fun?" His voice was soft, in no way demeaning. Even as a child, this one would not appreciate being looked down on. With a grunt he turned himself back to his initial conversation - the talk of racism and the past.

Ned had a point. The bleached brute spoke of why he was in a herd that he didn't necessarily agree with, but it was the fright of being an outcast that made him stick close within their own territories and remaining faithful. "I guess I am not what you would call brave, for I could not tear myself away from the herd if it means I am to live alone, Ned." he looked down on the herbage before gazing straight back at the brute once more, "In truth though, I have no desire to be part of whatever they may think. I have my own opinion and I will not fight for something I do not believe." His words were not just confirmation to the wounded alabaster, but also to himself. This was final. And then he caught onto what it was that Paladin and Ned were discussing. He had heard of these lands from two others that had escaped from these shadows, but it made him feel cold to the core at the sound of the dead walking and killing mercilessly. He shivered slightly, but did not go ahead and disturb their flow of conversation, it did not concern him. Instead he turned back to the little cold, and asked, "As you have probably heard, I am Ricciardo. May I have your name?" He smiled once more, trying to comfort the little soul.