Gabbar
stallion . arabian . bay . 14.3hh . 6
Statistically, Gabbar should not be surprised that most of the horses he has encountered on these Isles are of mixed blood. He has noted that it is primarily male mutts who have come traipsing into the territory he calls home, and that fact irritates him to a level that is perhaps unreasonable— but not because he is irked at having to repel potential competition from his land and the mares who share it with him. The bay stallion thinks of home as he descends a dune to drive away his latest unwanted visitor, recalling his brothers and their silent understanding of one another and his own camaraderie with Rakkas. There are no Arabian Breeders on these Isles, Gabbar thinks. Only him.
It is a depressing thought, one he tries to dispel with an abrupt shake of his head, but the feeling lingers until he is near enough to the stranger on the edge of his territory that adrenaline and the anticipation of a fight drives all other concerns from his mind. “Boyunca hareket,” he booms. The stranger is taller than him but Gabbar is not concerned: so was the breeder he and Valve drove out of the Dunes several seasons ago. He is a soldier of the sand and experienced in skirmishes and battles alike. This breeder of indeterminate bloodlines will not be a challenge for him. Now, a ‘Teke, perhaps...
The Arabian stares at the buckskin with his head raised and tail flagged, ears turned back but not yet pinned as he gives the other male a moment to process the meaning behind his tone and turn back to the ocean. Hesitation or outright defiance will be met with an immediate assault, and Gabbar gathers his weight on his hindquarters as he prepares himself for such a possibility.
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