The residence were quick to address him in a way that reassured Bacardi that this was a thriving territory. Though as the first mare arrived, he wondered if she was the leader? She seemed friendly enough, even offering her name, though she did not state the title of which she carried. Maybe it was rude to presence one’s self as a leader or ruler? Bacardi was just about to muster up an answer when a second mare arrived. This one carried herself much differently, and her eyes more suspicious, though Bacardi couldn’t say she was unfriendly. But as she stated her name as well, this time giving a title, Bacardi quickly realized the difference in greetings, mentally taking notes.


“My name is Bacardi.” he introduced. “I recently claimed the Savanna and hoped to meet my neighbors.” he said truthfully, feeling that was the best way to face this. Though for a moment uncertainty again arose in the young stallion, his ears flicking back momentarily as he debated his next statement. But as he looked to the lead mare, certainty finally calmed his nerves. “I was hoping for an alliance. I….I was born here, my mother was Macabre.” Bacardi confessed.


Though the young painted stallion had spent most of his life in the Peak, he still felt a connection to the forest. Bacardi did not want bad blood with the residence here, nor did he want it with anyone else for that matter. But for some reason he couldn’t explain, he felt it was important to start here first.

three years. mutt. bay tobiano. fourteen three hands. of the savanna.

"...speech"