Scent: rain, cedar wood, leather
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Voice Claim: Gerard Butler...as himself lol

Percival is a tank, but also quick on his hooves. A strong Roman nose draws one's eye first, followed by his mercurial gaze and an intriguingly scarred face. A son hailing from an ancient line of warriors and chiefs, centuries of careful marriages have led to Percy. Perhaps the cliched epitome of the classic gallant knight, he bears a rugged handsomeness despite his rather plain appearance. A broad chest mirrors his equally strong hindquarters, while his neck is stout and thick with muscle. With tree trunks for legs, his lineage is quite clearly a draft horse of some variety. If there were any doubts, surely his strong musculature, rather imposing height, and his large pale-colored hooves that peek out from beneath snow-white feathering would be some kind of indicator. White 'scruff' grows on his chin, though it is kept short and manageable to avoid tangles.

The stallion has always been as pale as snow, even from birth. In his youth, he was mocked for his color - often called 'Percy the Fair'. His mane and tail bear almost a silvery tint to the long, heavy locks when hit just right by the light. The only colors that mar Percy's perfect monotone coat are the faded pink scars that he has earned during his lifetime and a collection of small black flecks around his eyes, muzzle, chest, and groin. Pale pink scars slash across Percy's handsome face, legs, shoulders, and hindquarters in ragged zig-zags. More often than not, Percy is seen with his mane and tail partially drawn up. His forelock and part of his mane are drawn back into a bun just behind his ears, to keep his scarred face free of hair; heavy braids are woven intermittently into his mane and held together by golden bands. His tail is gathered and held together by a singular thick gold band, save for the one heavy braid that always managed to escape from the band's hold. Silvery eyes complete Percy's monotone appearance but seem to burn despite their lack of true color. They seem older, far wiser than a stallion his age ought to be.

On a regular basis, Percy is hardly ever seen "naked". He is almost always wearing an outfit of some variety of his clan's colors, whether it is his more formal courtly cloak or his more formidable suit of armor and tartan. His cloak, mostly worn to more prestigious affairs and not on a day-to-day basis, is of a deep navy blue trimmed in gold and is held to his body by an array of deep brown leather straps. His armor is made up of steel grey plates, grey-brown wolf's fur, and his clan's tartan of navy blue and forest green; all the pieces are held in place by dark brown leather straps. Gold runes are etched into the plates of his armor, with each rune representing a different attribute: strength, wisdom, courage, and so on. Steel horseshoes protect his hooves from the harsh terrain he may encounter.

His tartan of navy blue and forest green, while technically his clan's colors, are a representation of his ancestral background: the navy blue of his father's clan and the forest green of his mother's. The blending of the two signifies the blending of their houses and the end of a long blood-feud.

Percival is a complex stallion; he is stoic, hardly seen driven to violence, yet is also a formidable warrior in his own right. He has always held a deep respect for the liege he once served, before finding himself questioning everything he knew while on the trail of his lost princess. Before his mission, Percy was often seen giving his liege reasonable, practical, and effective advice. For the most part, Percy holds himself to a high moral standard - however, committing dishonorable acts out of necessity or for those he cares for is not entirely out of the question.

A creature of principle, Percy is patient, cautious, intelligent, noble, and possesses an immense sense of duty. He is often known for being honorable and a firmly moral character at heart. He always reacts to situations as calmly and reasonably as possible, even if the situations endangered him or the people he loved. He knows to fly into a panic or to let his emotions rule him can have dire consequences and aims to avoid such situations as much as possible. Percy does not fear death and on more than one occasion has said that he "learned how to die a long time ago." He is a skilled warrior, though he does have an honor code, and tries not to kill his opponent if such an option is possible.

He is intelligent, literate and well-traveled, knowing the histories of several kingdoms and speaks several tongues. Although stoic, short-spoken, and sometimes cold, Percy does have the ability to warm up to others once they earn his respect. While regarded as primarily level-headed, it is possible to entice Percy into rage. There are only a few triggers that can draw such a ferocious rage out of him; one of those being his lineage, another being any slights towards his charge.

While he tries to remain as polite and respectful as he can, sometimes foul language slips up. Granted, reactions to his accent and foul language seem to only irritate him further, thus perpetuating the hilarious cycle.

His story begins long before he was born, back when his parents were young and eyeballs deep in an ancient blood feud between their two families. His sire, Rhys, was the son of a minor Baron of Bressoncourt and his mother, Fenella, the only daughter and heiress to a rather wealthy lord. No one is quite sure how or why their families' feud started, only that it pre-dated the kingdom of Bressoncourt. The feud between Lords and Barons was deeply rooted in something far more ancient and tribal than kings and their codes of honor.

With the passing of Rhys' sire, the Baron Lochlann ap Gawain, the newly minted Baron knew a change had to be made. Too many of his men were dying in back-alley scuffles as they tried to skirt around the laws of the kingdom. Surely the Lord Ó Erskine felt the same. Despite the protests of his own vassals, Rhys traveled to the holds of his rival and offered a proposal: end their feud once and for all in the most diplomatic way possible...with a wedding. Rhys offered himself, the only son of the previous Baron and head of the clan. The Lord, also tired of the neverending bloodshed, surprised everyone by agreeing. The caveat was that Rhys nor any children borne of their union could claim the lordship over Fenella's inheritance. Stunned by the ease of agreement, Rhys accepted the counter-proposal. Thus, Rhys and Fenella were married at the end of winter. The melting snow and flower buds of the incoming spring season seemed to foretell a promising future for the newlyweds. Despite their differences, both in personality and in clan traditions, Rhys and Fenella seemed truly happy together.

And not long after, Percival was born.

He was not the son either Rhys or Fenella had expected but was still well-loved. Born as white as freshly fallen snow, he was first mistaken for a rather large-boned filly before the realization of a pale son set in. His sire hardly seemed to care; a son was a son, and he was healthy. Why should he question Fate's decision to make his son so pale? Fenella was not as accepting as her husband, though she grew to love her son anyway. Percival, or "Percy" as he was more prone to be called, learned to ignore the thinly veiled insults of others as he grew. Their harsh words and jabs only served to strengthen his resolve and his hold on his anger...Though there were quite a few scuffles to be had before Percy learned to control his temper. To this day he denies any courtyard brawls, but the stories still circulate.

Like any good aristocratic son, Percy took to fighting in Bressoncourt's armies and swore allegiance to King Baudouin de Chaufourier. His skill in combat and valor in trying times earned Percy many accolades and honors and drew the pale stallion into the dazzling social circle of the royal family. He also grew to be close friends with Crown Prince Barthélemy and was well acquainted with the younger Prince and Princess as time went on. In fact, Percy had been one of the few knights trusted to protect the Princess when she was sent to Burgkhammer to meet her betrothed for the first time. Having heard very little of the Crown Prince, Percy was slow to trust Prince Vincent and was hardly dazzled by his charm and dashing looks. Even though he knew it was not his place to deem the worthiness of the Princess's betrothed, Percy found himself hardly swayed from the Princess's side when Prince Vincent came for their daily garden walks. He lurked like a white ghost, watching the pair in silence.

Months had passed and little had changed, though Percy knew his time in Burgkhammer was drawing to a close as the wedding loomed over them. One fateful day changed everything, though, when word spread like wildfire of Princess Aurora's sudden disappearance. A rare fit of rage coursed through the normally stoic knight as he flew to conclusions a little too rapidly, believing Prince Vincent had done Aurora harm. It was only when Prince Barthélemy assured that no harm had come to Aurora via Vincent did Percy calm down. He swore to return the Princess safely to her betrothed, leaving before he could discover the true reason why Aurora ran away.

He had caught his princess once, unawares, after months of tracking. Initially, she agreed to return to their homeland, with a caveat. She told him everything, the betrayal she had faced from her husband to be, but asked if she was to return to her duties to their kingdom, that they did not rush their return. That they see the sights that had been denied to her for so long. Percy agreed, thinking nothing of the princess’s wishes, only to wake one morning to discover she had slipped away in the night when his guard was down. Somehow, he didn’t find it in his heart to pursue her again. She had survived months without him or any other guard. Maybe she had learned far more from him than he had realized; maybe, just once...He’d turn away from his sworn oath and let her seek the freedoms she desired. It made him consider his own life, and how little he truly had.

Maybe they both needed new beginnings.

As Percy set out to explore new lands and to find a new place for himself, the magic that was hidden deep in his bones was awakened. The magic flared to life suddenly, violently, and without warning during a confrontation with a dangerous foe. What should have been a death blow bounced off of the bark that had suddenly encased Percy’s skin, turning his once white fur into a deep shade of mahogany wood. Seized by panic, the stallion fled from his would-be murderer. It took hours for the bark to melt away from his skin, leaving the knight exhausted beyond belief. He had heard that his ancestors had once been fearsome warriors who could control the land and animals, but had only believed it to be a myth. Even his own family had believed the stories to be fanatical old wives’ tales meant to entertain babes.

Yet the irrefutable truth laid literally at his feet. As Percy continued to travel, he learned with many trials and errors to hone his magical abilities. Granted, there are still hiccups, but he has a far better understanding of the ancient gift he now bears.

words

Previously thought to have been a magical "dud", the druidic sorcery was awakened in Percy's blood thanks to magic. Druidic sorcery had been rumored to have once been a strong staple of his family centuries ago, but time and breeding to non-magical mates had nearly driven the ability to near extinction...until now.

Percy may control the roots of trees or other plants, using them to entangle a single target with ease. These entangling roots will grasp a target's legs or body in a vice grip, eliminating movement for a time. His single target use of the root entanglement can turn deadly. His entangling roots can be used against multiple targets, though this ability can only be used for a short period of time and requires a significant amount of focus. The same limitations can be applied when Percy summons a “dome” of roots as either a shield or as a way to contain a target. The roots he summons are vulnerable like any other root.

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