In the world the great sire was born into, he was called a hideous monster. As such he cannot see the beauty he has become. His great raptor wings, strong, steady, and capable of carrying for many miles, are kissed with the color of fire before fading into brown that grows almost black. Each feather gleams with a silken glow of blue embers, soft and smooth to the touch. His pelt a dappled brown is stained black along his back, withers and haunches. Blanketing his rear legs in the same dark color, they suddenly, strikingly shift to white. As if he has stepped in fallen snow and taken the pureness with him.

While the spines along his back and the three sharp horns and ridges- colored the same striking, molten orange as his wings- certainly catch one's attention. It is his two forelegs that truly draw one's eye. Cursed by the petty gods of his world for his parent's arrogance, the blood of a dragon flows through his veins. Giving him the two, menacing legs armored in fiery scales attached to deadly talons. His scales gleam in the sunlight like flame with faint traces of blue.

His lone, illustrious mane is a mix of black and white. Dark and light. His eyes that of storm clouds above the sea. His regal mane continues down his back, draping over his draconic tale that can whip about like that of a striking snake. Tall and powerful, his body gifted with the finer points of the draft breed, the stallion is a terrifying sight to behold. The monster of his world that struck fear in the hearts of all. The demon who haunted his parent's dreams. The protector of those who could see beyond the exterior and call him friend. Roscorro is a beast very few can ignore. Adorning his body are various trinkets and jewelry he has made from the items smuggled to him by his companions. Shining stones, beads, and charms are woven within his mane and tail. Mementoes of his friends and their kindness towards him.

Since entering the Rift Roscorro has received large scars across his chest. Left by the claws of the Magnus Metus in the Labrinth. He has also received a mace weapon for his tail and a cloak/armor combo from the Matrons.

DRAGON FORM

As imposing as Roscorro is in his normal form, it pales in comparison to his draconic figure. Massive, powerful, with scales that glisten like raven feathers, he is a force to be reckoned with. A 19 hand high beast of muscle and flame that will grow bigger as his powers strengthen. His scales, a dark black-green had an iridescence like unto oil. Hard as steel they serve as a nearly impenetrable armor. The spines that originate on his body remain, lining the demon's head and back. Two massive ram's horns take the place of the stallion's ears and the mace at the end of his tail melds with his body as a deadly weapon. His belly is orange and his dark hues morph into this fiery color as it comes to his legs, glistening like flame. Wicked talons tip each finger and toe, made for tearing and rending friend and foe alike. Fangs line his mouth, eager to sink into the body of another and rip away massive chunks. His wings morph, the feathers falling from them as webbing takes over, one of the few weak spots in this monster's armor. He is a prime specimen capable of destroying herds and villages alike. A creature a dragon could be proud to call a member of its family. But wait, this is Roscorro we are talking about. He is as frightening as a rabbit. Oh how wrong you are. For until the stallion learns to overcome the dark voice within, he will not be in control. No, the dragon's blood reigns when he takes this form, eager to lay waste to all around it.

Despite his looks, Roscorro is a gentle soul. He is soft and tender soul, hardened by his life's experiences. Even still he would not hurt a fly, and if he could, he would avoid violence all together. He is very kind to others and happy to talk with anyone that is willing. Often times the way he acts depends on the environment he is in. If he is unsure he tends to be more quiet and aloof. His instincts are sharp and often take over when the time comes to act. While in a conversation his words are thought out. He genuinely wants to help others and will do his best to provide aid in his quiet, careful way. He has a knack for reading people and was born with good instincts when it comes to trust. He also has a soft spot for young ones, and will often become protective over foals.

Though he does tend to be more reserved around strangers, not trusting at first, but polite and friendly, if he is comfortable with you he is more outgoing and energetic. A completely different stallion compared to that of one's first encounter in terms of energy and enthusiasm. Though he is sweet, and kind of quiet, Ros is not a coward. He does not seek to start a fight, nor will he push back, at first. But if you keep coming at him he will stand up for himself with surprising firmness and ferocity. He may not start fights, but he sure will finish them. His tongue can be extremely cutting as he speaks in low, threatening tones. Normally people do not try to push him around much, his looks are enough to keep most at bay. He is a genuine friend and does what he can to support those he cares about. Though at times he finds himself at a loss and does not think himself all that helpful. But he tries, and that is what counts. Due to his parents, he does not think much of himself in terms of looks. In truth, he is often surprised when someone calls him friend, for he had been told all his life that he was nothing more then an unwanted monster. As such he believes himself to be a hideous beast that no one could love. But that does not stop his heart from wanting what he will never have. One can dream. Within dreams, anything can happen.

Because his knowledge of the world comes from books smuggled in by the servants, and the wise words of experienced equine, Roscorro is largely untested. Though strongly built and trained to fight, he has never seen real battle. All he has to survive upon are his teachings, and instinct. Very little when thrust into a world unlike that of anything his people have ever seen. Still, he is a fighter and will cling to life with every ounce of strength he has. Possessing a stubbornness and tenacity that even he has not discovered yet, it is not yet known how far this stallion will go to survive in his new world. To preserve the 'freedom' he has never had.

Long ago two exquisitely beautiful equine came together. Their elegance and ethereal glory known to all. They were admired and hated for their perfect splendor that attracted the eyes of even the gods. Their first born child was to be a combination of their magnificence. A being more perfect, more beautiful then even them. The child would be adorned with riches and luxury! Given the world before they could even stand. In their arrogance they claimed this foal would outshine the very gods. For this they were cursed. Fore when the child was born, it was a monster.

Enfolded in beautiful wings, like that of his father, was a beast that brought terror to the hearts of all who gazed upon him. The gods had cursed the foal with the blood of the dragon slane by his father's knights for its hideiousness. Mortified Roscorro's parents sought to end his existence, immediately. But the gods had armed him with a protection. So long has he resided within their world, he could not be killed. A cruel trick and an even crueler punishment for the lad. Mortified his parents hid him away in disgust.

Kept prisoner in his own kingdom, Roscorro was raised by servants and guards. A nurse maid had been set in charge of suckling the new born. She raised him as if he were her own. Over time, many of those set to serve and guard him took a liking to the young stallion. They taught him much about the world and how to live within it. These lessons were in secret, for fear of his parent's punishments. With each risk his nurse maid, the servants and guards took for him, Roscorro felt a love he would never know from his own blood. He learned of their families and listened to their problems, endearing himself to them. Though he could have used such affections to his advantage, Roscorro never tried to escape (though some had tried to convince him to make an attempt). He would not disobey his parents. He owed them that much for being born hideous. In their tales many of the equine who visited him spoke of their loved ones. Their mates in particular. This was a connection he found himself selfishly desiring. But it was not to be. So he waited in the dank and dark, for his final sentence to come. It took his parents many years to discover an answer to their problems. That answer came in the form of a portal that led to a place from which no returned. The Rift.

He went humbly and willingly. Never one to want to wish his parent's ill. To the heart ache of all those who had cared for him in his time of imprisonment, he disappeared into the void. Perhaps everyone's lives would be better now that he was gone? Despite the suffering he had endured from his parent's scorn, Roscorro still holds a hopeful outlook on life. Maybe within this void he will find a place to belong? A purpose.