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

The thrill of battle dropped swiftly upon the flame-kissed brute's frame, bracing him with adrenaline that surged through his brawny muscles. It was not often that Ricciardo had needed to use battle tactics. Yet now, even as he stood upon the waves of trespassers that dared to cross the borders into the World's Edge, he was almost elated at the chance. For too long now the Sandman had bottled his anger to keep from shaming himself in the sights of his fellow herd members. It had been too long for everything, and now was his chance. With a thud of his front leg dagger against the hard terra firma, he twitched his crown to the right. With sand orbs blaring, he bared his teeth and began to pick his way out of the back of the mass.

Slowing down as he approached the invasion, he picked his victim. He saw that Mauja, that wretched Alan, and a few other herd members that remained unfamiliar to him were choosing theirs in various ways. He paid little attention to their moves, for he was about to enter a world of his own. The scenery of the beautiful Edge became a blur as he focused upon his opponent - Rishima. It was a femme that was a stranger to him, and seemed an unlikely target for the beast. But Ricciardo understood the urgency of the situation. It was better to quickly decide on the opponent for the sake of protecting his homeland than to waste time in the background of the battle. I will not cower.

The Orangemoon had been playing with his frame, making it far colder than the sand and sea-bred brute hoped, yet as he felt the adrenaline pulsing him through him, he felt the warmth it brought. Like a fire burning through him, it was glowing out of his pelt and emphasising the furnace building within him. His own pelt made of flame looked equally startling, as the cinders of his anger was reaching its peak. As much as he still believed that this was not truly his homeland yet, Ricciardo knew that it was his duty as a member of the Edge to protect his fellow herd members, and to keep the territory as their own. Too many strangers bore down on them to let this chance past, to prove his worth to both himself and the other herd members. Under his breath he muttered words of encouragement and rage notes to no one but himself, the deep tones of his voice were now rasping underneath the hyperventilating,
"For my herd, my home, myself. Never back down and remain true." he paused as he focused once again on his chosen victim, "The strong heroes are the ones that continue."

He stalked closer through the chaos that was the battleground, eyeing up his victim. All the others seemed of no interest to Ricciardo as he investigated. Short and fast, his pools came upon the one. The dark duchess seemed a worthy opponent, and he suddenly shot his whole display forward into a dance of menacing daggers. Stretching his neck up high, he let his crown do the work. The vixen seemed to possess no real weapon, she was not a winged, nor a horned. He spat with anger at her, orbs flaring. He spoke quietly to himself, with an almost somber, calm atmosphere surrounding him like a shroud. He noticed the bonded of the target, some kind of malformed bird-like creature that he did not recognise as any particular species. It seemed dangerous enough, but the flame-kissed brute knew that he couldn't back out of this now.

Whatever injuries that he would sustain, he would bear them with the knowledge that he had fought bravely. A bellowing war cry sounded from the bottom of his burly chest, deep and dark, sending shivers to what felt like even the surrounding nature, to Ricciardo. The sorrel felt that he and this trespasser were alone in their own brawl, if she decided to take his challenge further.

"So it begins..."