[center][fancypost=bgcolor=;border: 0px solid white; width: 500px; text-align: justify; height: auto;font-size: 9pt; line-height: 122%; margin-top: -2px;]Barbarians. Of all the creatures that roamed this planet, it had to be barbarians that invaded her homeland. Unlike many of her fellow residents of what used to be an unnamed tribe, Shaman and her brother had fought against their rule until the very end. She poured every ounce of her soul into resisting the hordes of warriors that swarmed their lands, and was even willing to die fighting. Alas, instead of dying a warrior's death, they allowed her to live and join their cause - she accepted, albeit grudgingly. Bile filled her throat every time she thought about the events that occurred not so far in the past, but she was a peaceful woman, and managed to subdue the tumultuous storms of rage that had once threatened to consume her. Shaman was a woman of the future, a survivor, and she would adapt if it meant that she got to live one more day.
The winged equine stood alone on a grassy plateau, gazing down at the lands below with a thoughtful expression. Her initial intent was to search for herbs to add to the reserves since it was prime growing season for many plants, but she had found herself distracted by the fiery red blaze cast by the setting sun. A gentle breeze swept across the territory, disturbing the mare's silky mane and making the wild grasses whisper and dance in its wake. No matter the entity that claimed these lands as their own, none could deny the utter beauty of it all.