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Spell and Grammar Check – yes
Centaur's Name: Xanthus: myth name (a river god) (so named because his mane and tail look like the white foam on the black river at the heart of Dead Wood. ~ if this is allowed)
Age: In human years he is in his very early 20s
Family: Sire – Vasileios, Head Warrior of the Dead Wood Clan.
Mother – Aleicraztea, a stunningly beautiful walker mare.
Clan: None (wanderer)
Clan Rank: None (Warrior type)
Appearance: His human half is lean and hard, the muscles wiry rather than bulky, and his skin is a dark smooth coffee colour. His forearms are scared where he has been forced to defend himself without the help of weapons and there is an old long jagged slash scar down his right side, stretching from his right pectoral, down and around his waist to his right hip. Even with the scars he is stunningly handsome. Thick lashes hide the sharp, closed gaze that is the colour of the sky on a clear winter morning. His long hair falls straight just curling at the ends and brushing against his withers when down and is pure white, all except for a few streaks of ebony black which are completely natural.
His horse half is a lot like an Anglo-Arab sleek and lean but very powerful. Long, slender but strong legs give him a turn of speed that is quite remarkable, the deep chest provides heart and lungs with plenty of space so he can sustain his impressive speed for long periods of time and has almost limitless stamina. The high, arched tail is like his mane, snow white except for the few black streaks. His horse body is pure black, a rich lustrous colour that shimmers in the sunlight, possessing highlights of a rich deep blue. The only white markings on him are a few strange stripes at his wither like twisted zebra stripes and a small sock on his left fetlock. His colouring is known as Jet Black Silver. The silver gene gave him the startling and unusual white mane and tail.
He does wear small beads and other ornaments made from the bones of his kills. He has a bone-bead and claw necklace, and bone bands on his forearms, all dyed with the few materials at hand, blues and blacks from a rare flower that grows only in certain places in deadwood, and red from the few berries available that are inedible but make a good dye.
Overall he is of good height, lean and hard. Adept at both traditional hand to hand and weapon fighting as well as the far more primitive but useful self defence and attack used against the less than friendly wild animals that reside in the darker parts of Dead Wood.
History: Having always been a loner since he was only a foal he was often shunned as different. He would vanish into the woods surrounding his clan for weeks at a time when other youngsters were still following their mothers around. This probably had something to do with the fact that his dam was killed when he was barely weaned. The other mothers tried to help him at first, but the grief stricken young colt simply wouldn’t accept a substitute.
His mother had been one of the most beautiful females of the heard, a stunning Isabella palomino, her coat the palest buttermilk, skin almost snow white and silky soft. He inherited her white mane and tail and her eyes, though his own are far paler than his mother’s vivid blue. She was a dainty little thing of Morgan and Arab breeding, swift as the wind and almost weightless, she could run the forest faster than even the warriors. His sire was a large Thoroughbred x Irish draft, from who he inherited his strength and strong bones. The stallion was black with white socks, his human-half almost as dark as his horse-half.
He had been a pleasant youngster but the death of his mother changed him. Gone were the smiles and laughter that used to so often grace the herd from mother and son. They were replaced with silence and a steady, detached gaze. However the colt would risk his own life for others and was often discovered missing whenever the wild animals grew to bold and started to interfere with the clan’s daily life. He would usually return with several new wounds and new claws to be added to his collection which he turned into necklaces, bands and hair-beads. He didn’t change much as he grew older, being a silent shadow when near the herd but more often than not, he simply wasn’t seen. Preferring to live on the edge, keeping silent watch over his clan from the shadows.
Finally he simply didn’t return from one of his wanderings in Dead Wood. The herd was never attacked by the wild animals, since they preferred easier prey than the defence of the dark stallion. No one missed him for long time and when they finally realised he was not going to come back, he was lost to them.
Personality:
Other:
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Xanthus
