[demonthief.]

What are Khimaira Friesians?
Khimaira Friesians are a "normal" friesian breed with all characteristics of a friesian and a average height from 15 to 17 hands, but even 18 hands can occur. The first born Khimaira was mistaked for a chimera horse. But a genetic test showed otherwise, there wasn't a second DNA but a complete new and unknown gen. Because this gen makes the friesian look like a chimera it was named khimaira. khimaira doesn't produce a complete new dna coat and therefor it can only lighten or darken the base coat of the horse. Till now only the paint khimaira is known that makes the khimaira coloration looks like tobiano, overo, sabino or splash. But we believe that there will be more khimaira variations out there and we still try to breed them. Appaloosas are not known till now, but we have some great friesian mixed horses with appaloosa patterns, so we are sure to deliver them to you in a short amount of time.

Sire: Foundation
Dam: Foundation
Owner: HowlingHooves
Show Name: The Royal Knight-Errant
Barn Name: Agrigar
Gender: Stallion
Age: 17
Height: 18 hh
Color: Greying Flaxen Bronze Dun Brindle w/ reverse overo and irregular blood mark.
Genetics: ee/Aa/DD/Oo/Gg/ff + brindle + dapples
Breeding Notes:
- Scars will not pass.
- Edited mane and tail will not pass.
- Has reptilian eyes.
- brindle pass with 20%
- dapples pass with 40%
- irregular bloodmark passes with 70% if grey passes

This old warrior has seen his fair share of battles against reptilian monsters, but it seems like they have left their mark more than just a few scars.

I adore this guy, so I would like to say a quick thank you for those who voted for him in the poll.

[NeriHyuga]

Slots:
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x3
- brindle pass with 20%
- dapples pass with 40%
- irregular bloodmark passes with 70% if grey passes

[Rescue2001]

Mark

[paradise,]

marking <3

[demonthief.]

this guy is up for adoption.

[Rescue2001]

Owner: tomijojo
Show Name: once a dragon thief
Barn Name: foughten
Age: 8
Height: 14.0
Personality:
Fear:

[|Shyba|]

Owner: |Angel|
Show Name: Voyagers of the North
Barn Name: Viking
Age: 7 Years
Height: 17.1 Hands
Personality:
Fear:

Wip

[~SpotOnAppy~]

Mark

[HowlingHooves]

HowlingHooves

The Royal Knight-Errant

Agrigar

17 years old

18 hh


Agrigar is devoted, to say the least; if given a task, whether it be guarding a flock of sheep or recapturing a key position while in battle, Agrigar is not one to give in or allow others to let words of misery and negativity stop him from accomplishing his endgame. Loyal to those who out their trust in him, he's a warrior who will always put others before himself, at times suffering injury or emotional distress, but he's quick to recover so he may surge forward again and again, protecting those that need it and allowing for justice to be served to those who are deserving of it. But Agrigar is quiet, his sharp eyes preferring to gather in any information he can in the first couple minutes of entering new territory, a new battle against a new opponent; he has an eidetic memory, and those first minutes are all he needs to be able to commit any flaws or areas that hold the greatest potential for his, or his allies, benefit. He's no Commander, and he prefers it that way, but his powerful confidence is inspiring and others naturally follow him. But Rigar does tend to have a few flaws that are easily exploited if any foe spies them quick enough; his want to study the field before him makes it rather easy to change ones tactics, because it will take him even just a few seconds to a couple minutes longer to be able to adjust his own plans accordingly. Agrigar also tends to be somewhat vain, but only when not in combat; he takes time to be sure he's presentable whenever he can, usually spending quite some time maintaining his armor, mane and tail. Or injuries, if they are slower to heal. He's also stubborn, and his refusal to give in has led to some rather poor decision making, frustration getting the better of him at times if he finds a foe quicker than he is, smarter than he is.
As such, Agrigar tries to treat every enemy he faces as though they are stronger than he is, smareter ahd more cunning, to try and avoid any nasty surprises.
One thing that Rigar is confident in, and not at all ashamed of as some he's met, is that he is a shifter. He tells those who ask of him how he became as such, and he's rather content with his lot in life some think. He was cursed, he tells them, when the man who had purchased him years before grew so tired of his rebellious streak as a colt, which surprised people even further and only serves to lighten his heart. He enjoys his ability, but does not misuse it; noble through and through, Agrigar only wants to leave the world a better place if he can.

Rigar has Athazagoraphobia, in the sense of forgetting; memories, his conditionings, relations he has with people.. the thought of forgetting the things he feels so important to him, to who he is, scares him very deeply. It isn't so bad that he is physically paralyzed, or even mentally, but he does become more insistent on being sure his memory is in tact after a bad hit. And, with anyone he knows and cares for, should they endure a head injury he'sbeen known to be overbearing and hovering like a mother hen until he's certain they haven't lost themselves to what he fears most.


The Hunt Begins..
The wind whipped through his mane, docked tail flicking at his hindquarters as he galloped over the spongy earth, the swampy water splashing over his hooves and leaving the heavy feathering to cling to his legs. His breath came in heavy gusts, nostrils flared wide and eyes like saucers as he picked his path in a rush. The stench clogged his senses, eyes and nose burning from the wretched smell of the decaying plant life, the stagnant water he sloshed through in his hurry.

“Faster, Rigar! Faster!” Atop his back, saddled tightly and carrying a young man who was half standing in his stirrups and pressed over the horse's neck, urged him. His voice was panicked, hoarse and fearful, and his hands were tight on the reins. Bursting forth with a rumbling response from within his barrel, Agrigar called up what strength he had left in his legs.

But too late he burst forth from the swamp surrounding his homeland, the man atop him crying out in despair, utter and formidable, at the flames that licked at the wood fiercely, roaring as smoke plumed up and into the trees and muggy air. Agrigar was pulled up roughly, his mouth aching sharply as he neighed anxiously, head tucked as he slid to a halt in the muck underfoot. The man threw himself from the large, scarred stallion, crying denials as he went, nearly slipping in the muck before he stopped and wept loudly.

Agrigar, rearing up as his head flung forward to loosen the bit in his mouth, and slammed his hooves back into the ground sloppily. He snorted anxiously once, and then a second time before a soft, grey hued glow coated him. Within moments in place of the horse stood a man, skin toned akin to the once bronze and white coat. He was tall, broad shouldered and a light smattering of facial hair covered his face.

His eyes were soft, an olive color, but were troubled and filled to the brim with sorrow. It took two steps for him to be at the other man's side, taking one knee and grasping him gently by his shoulders. “Rayce, we cannot stay here.” Agrigar murmured quietly, voice strong but thick, tormented with grief just as the man weeping was.

The man, Rayce, pulled his steel and bone helmet from his head, hurling it into the flaming ruins that once housed he and his wife, his two children.. A fist, covered by thick leather, slammed into the ground wetly. “Help me find that beast, friend. Once more, I ask for your help to hunt this dragon.” Rayce snarled through his grief.

Agrigar hung his head, brow pressed to the chainmail covering his shoulder. “Of course, my friend. We'll find her, my liege.”



Minutes longer spent weeping and then searching for clues as to the dragons path from her destruction, Agrigar was once more the broad, scarred horse. He carried Rayce forward quickly, hooves pounding as he steeled himself for what was to come. For the hunt of the beast.

A Dragon's Last Breath...
Her shrieking, and painful as it was to his ears, only caused heat to bloom in his legs. Anger, fueled further by the sorrow draped over his heart, bled through his muscles as he picked his steps carefully. On his back a man, ragged looking and exhausted with heavy bags under his brown eyes, haunted things that they were; the man's face was covered with a patchy scruff, the left side half singed with soot smeared across his cheek and brow, nose bruised and positioned in an uneven line. The great horse was careful as he moved, not wanting to unseat his rider in his weakened state; rage flowed through him even more than the steed.

The wind whipped unnaturally and caused Agrigar, the horse, to half rear as he tried to stay grounded, the powerful guard nearly blowing them both backward. Champing his teeth, but having been lost days before, he plunged forward in a rush of muscles just as strong, quiet save for his heaving breaths. “She knows we're here, Agrigar! Now we fight!” The man, Rayce, shouted when a roar sounded from above. When a shadow passed overhead, large and winged, both man and horse rumbled anxiously before the reins yanked to the left, hauling Agrigar’s muzzle and directing him a little less quickly than both were accustomed to.

Grabbing a hefty spear from the horse's right side, holding it with confidence and strong hands, Rayce levered it over a shoulder as the dragon glided around in a half circle to find them again. And when her wings pulled up, claws extended to grab at them with her monstrous claws, Rayce grunted loudly as he hurled the spear at the she dragon. He ducked low as she shrieked again, the spear having slipped into her softer, more malleable underbelly between her gut and the join of her right leg.

They repeated the action, Agrigar growing tired but ignoring the burn of his legs and chest. He couldn't give in to the feelings of exhaustion, neither of them could. Not with the dragon so near, not with the revenge that festered in the heart of Rayce near complete. And, on the final turnabout with but one spear left at his side, Agrigar spurred himself forward with what strength he could find, ears pinned and neighing loudly. Atop him, feet slipping from his stirrups, Rayce hurled his spear and shouted gleefully when it lodged in the join of one wing and her shoulder.

But Agrigar skid to a halt and tried to turn when she crashed to the ground with a cry of pain and surprise, earth rising in her path to spray outward and pebbles his hindquarters sharply with the stone that was jettisoned. Agrigar saw the cliff he had been avoiding, keeping as far from it as he could despite the she dragons want to herd the two warriors toward it, and he used her own tactic against her. Now that she slid behind him and couldn't stop her momentum, Agrigar snorted with each exhale before he leaped from the cliff.

Midair, half turning as the dragon fell behind he and Rayce, Agrigar glowed faintly before he was a man, gripping the shouting Rayce and curling around him. He knew nothing as he hit the ground, simply hoped before his mind was black that Rayce was at least safe; the dragon wouldn't survive, that much he already knew.

Agrigar woke as the sun was nearly gone, having been in its descent when they had found the dragon. He groaned before he was up in a rush, looking around him and finding nothing of what he was looking for. The dragon was there, debris around her battered and still body, but the man was gone. He spotted blood on a stone near him, worried until he saw his thigh. Rising and shifting back into the beast, Agrigar felt his leg burning, casting a glance back at the sharp gashes through his skin, before he lifted his head and inhaled quickly.

He smelled smoke to the east, not far off, but that was of no consequence; the villagers at the edge of the dragons territory likely had come to investigate. His eyes were less of a help with the coming darkness, but his nose led him quickly. And he found the man, Rayce, sitting atop a slab of earth with his head in his hands. Rumbling gently as he approached, carefully with his hindquarters smarting.

When he nudged at Rayce’s shoulder with his nose, the man wrapped a strong arm around his head tightly, weeping. Whether from relief, regret or just longing for his lost family, Agrigar would never ask. He simply stood at his friend's side quietly, too tired to move and not wishing to rush the man in his grief. With the dragon dead, Agrigar knew his job was done. Rayce was safe, at least from the dragon, and that was all he needed to face until the next morning.
art by Vak <3

[Tazaria]

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res