Drummer

Dark seal bay, almost black, but not quite. His coat his short and smooth with no feathering. He has a large blaze, and four white stockings. Drummer is huge, coming in at about 18hh and well muscled though not quite heavy draft build. 

Drummer is kind, but serious, bordering on humorless. When it comes to morality he likes to see things in black and white, and when decisions begin to fall into a grey area he starts to question himself. He prefers to honest, and is incredibly trustworthy, and at times can trust too easily himself. Drummer is charismatic and strong, but as honorable and just he tries to make his decisions, his idealism can cloud his judgement. 

Drummer galloped hard through the darkening forest, the massive stallion held his head low as he snaked his way through the trees. The night was hot and thick, the air so humid it felt as if he were running through water. He had hoped for a storm to roll through this afternoon, but he had had no such luck. Sweat was beginning to froth on his chest, and back, and behind his legs. His breaths came deep, and fast, snorting with each exhale. His target could run, and run fast, and run for a very long time. 

Drummer's legs were long and sturdy, and certainly allowed him to move at high speeds, but he did not have the stamina of the small Arab stallion he was pursuing. He could see him, not too far ahead, his bright chestnut haunches flashing in between the trees. The other horse had been sentenced to death, such was the price for murder. He was tall for an Arabian, still considerably shorter than Drummer, but strong enough to get the better of Alia. With a new found determination, he put on a fresh burst of speed, narrowly missing the low set branches of a sapling. 

The stallion spared a glance to the mare, Autumn, running several yards off to his side. Alia's sister. The pinto mare had been devastated at the news of her younger sibling's death, and now was hard on the heels of the monster who had killed her. Drummer eyed her with sympathy, she was breathing just as hard as he was, but showed no sign of stopping. 

The trees were beginning to thin out, and Autumn let out a bellow as the fields below the forest opened up wide underneath them. The Arab skidded to a halt at the edge of cliff, eyes rolling in their sockets as he tossed his head up with a surprised whinny. 

"He trusted you," Drummer said breathlessly, "He trusted you, and you killed his daughter." 

The chestnut stallion didn't respond, as Drummer slowly advanced. Autumn came in from the other side, pinning the murderer in. The Arabian tossed his head and nickered nervously as he backed closer and closer to the void. It was hundreds of feet to the bottom, there was no where left to go. 

"In the name of our King," Drummer said, "You will be-" Drummer stopped mid-sentence as the Arabian leapt, there was a sickening crack seconds later as the horse hit an outcrop of rocks somewhere below. It suddenly became very quiet, save the sound of falling stone and flesh, "Autumn," he said, "I'm so sorry." 

The sorrel pinto let out out a bitter laugh, "Sorry for what, Drum?" She turned to begin walking back towards the herd, "He's dead. If not now, certainly soon." 

"But he was not brought before-" Drummer started.

"Dead is dead, Drummer. And done is done," she said as Drummer trotted to catch up, "I don't care whose justice he was going to be brought before, he got what was coming to him in the end."