Somer, the lust-child of iron-clad masculinity and calculating barbarity, shows hallmarks from his progenitors throughout his appearance. His husky body is cloaked chiefly in ebony, with a copper abdomen and mule-toned knees that degenerate back into an inky darkness that seeps down the remnant of his limbs and into his shadowy hooves. Somer's mane and tail are chestnut-colored and drape unbroken to a blunt conclusion that he keeps moderately spruce. Although his flanks are polished and robust, his physique isn't the most memorable thing about him. What customarily seizes a stranger's gaze about Somer is the stark ruby red that adorns his skull in the form of four conspicuous horns, two savage eyes, and barring from the summit of his ears to his whiskered lips.

Honest and Direct - Strong-willed and Dutiful - Responsible and Practical
Somer is customarily a prudent man centered primarily on carrying out cement actions. He tends to fulfill only profitable objectives that possess more or less instantaneous reinforcement. To him, any things that do not have an advantage – and limited hazard – lack substance or significance. Once he makes the judgment if something is meriting his time or not, he rarely changes his mind. This sense of obstinacy and inflexibility is seen throughout most facets of his character as resolute adherence to his opinions and convictions. Despite the rigidness that presents itself willingly in his life, Somer tends to be an obedient man who will complete duties that are required of him - even if, to him, it seems moderately unimportant.

However, hatred is a hushed huntress developing in the darkness, equipped to engage when it is least expected. This quiet wrath resides within Somer, easily aroused and easily awoken - whether it be by himself or another - and it interferes with almost everything he does. Though his temper's reputation is considerable, he remains seen as a dutiful worker by most of those who have met him. It is his strong will and steadfast resolution that allows those around him to overlook his ire.

Callous - Judgemental - Irate - Rigid

Thousands of miles away is a forest whose stories have been burned away with fire, incinerated to charcoal spikes that stand as columns in an ashy sky. Only those who once lived among the trees, admiring the forest floor so woven with ancient tree roots, know the full tales of the beings who once thrived under the verdant and freshly aromatic trees.

They say beneath the grass that once rose to so many high notes of color, beneath the soil that mirrored the deep mahogany of oak bark, laid the bodies of his mother and father. Is there a worse fate for a child than to lose their parents? He had been orphaned so young that he had no recollection of his parents, but perhaps that was mercy in disguise. Truthfully, there was no room for sentimentality in his life anymore; he would not have survived otherwise.

With time, he labored his way up society's ladder of hierarchies - from languishing in the trench to tittering with nobles. To accomplish this feat, he had become someone his parents would have been terrified of, and he had done worse deeds than those of the person that took them from him.

Somer was not immune to the well-known proverb 'the higher you climb, the harder you fall' and, in the end, he lay beneath trees whose pines had been clad with the pale kiss of frost and ash. The murky snow that cloaked the ground was stained with variations of rose and ruby beneath the young flesh of his body. They say his eyes gazed upwards at the darkened heavens, where the smoke whirled around wisps of silver clouds. If they could, the trees would've whispered stories of when his battered frame shuddered and his voice cracked through the air in pain - what has become of me?

There is ice in his heart and soul from his fall, I swear it, that led to the fire that now rampages within. After all, it is easy to love the lick of flames when you've felt the numbness of cold.