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

Whilst facing the bronze charcoal pelt of Ulrik, Ricciardo smelt the prescence of another creature. Though it was a faded scent, similar to that of the lands of the Edge, it was clear to make out. Soon appeared the figure of a broad, burly and elegant brute. His Caucasian pelt dripped in spots of charcoal, draped over the build of a Friesian. His silks were bleached, too, long and flowing whilst his horn was long and azure. His pools were also azure, that let nothing slip past that concerned emotions. The alabaster brute walked closer, and as the flame-kissed beast stood there, he noticed that there was an informal familiarity shared between Ulrik and this stranger. He guessed it was a close friend, yet somehow sensed that this bleached brute was perhaps superior. That, or the height of him that was slightly larger than Ulrik caused him to look superior.

Ricciardo watched carefully as he rounded in closer, and he turned to face the sorrel. His orbs were friendly enough, and the tone of his voice as he asked him questions was also friendly. He went about replying politely, being cautious as to not offend. "I am wishing to join the herd of the Edge, if this is possible." Ricciardo continued to justify this briefly, "I desire a herd of horned creatures, such as myself and my kin." He dipped his average crown in respect before bringing it back up for his sanded orbs to gaze back at the bleached brute.

Ulrik did not seem to utter much whilst the brute that he suspected was indeed the Mauja approached. The strange, vacant, souless wolf that stood by the charcoal brute's side seemed to freeze, having no real sense of awareness, nor emotion. It scared Ricciardo to the core what sort of black magic or creativity came up with such a creature. As for Ulrik, he ultimately thought exactly the same. What a foul creature...

He stood silent whilst the bronzed charcoal beast briefly described Ricciardo. The disgusted look seemed to increase as he asked Ricciardo a question that took him back slightly - the Tides? The name rung a bell, for it was linked to his old herd. As he narrowed his bronze eyes at the Sandman, he saw his silks flick in an irate manner and calling him soft to the alabaster brute. How dare you! An anger boiled deep within the flame-kissed steed; soft? It was an insult. But he kept his emotions to himself, trying his best to hide the bloodlust that lurked within him. He simply decided to answer the questions that had been put towards him by the foul creature, attempting to let it go through one ear and out the other. "The Tides? Oh yes, they do mean something to me. A minority of my herd bore ancestors or indeed came from the Tides, that is all I know." As Ulrik gave him a last once over, his gaze thankfully turned to the frondescence of the forest.

A determination rose through Ricciardo; he would get into the Edge. He was not going to be turned down, and he was certainly not going to be soft.