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After the sudden and tragic passing of his father, Ruslan Volkov rose to power, claiming the title of Horselord. He had spent his entire life preparing for the position and now a wicked fire burnt in his ice blue eyes. His first year of rule was tumultuous. The Horselord bent the knee, becoming a vassal underneath the Compact and sending waves through the tribe. To this day, he deals with the aftermath of his decision. Yet, Ruslan doesn't see it as an act of weakness. Rather, the way forward into a brighter future.

Dangerously handsome and brimming with energy, there's a bold confidence in Ruslan's ice blue eyes. The young man's frame is lean and athletic, hardened by a life spent on horseback, rife with warfare and bloodshed. His stark blond hair is kept long enough on top to be slicked back or styled. There's a certain refinement and austerity to his pale features, in steep contrast to his 'savage' upbringing. Yet, there's definitely a touch of the wild to him: the ripple of his taut muscles, the shift of his cold gaze, the cocky smirk that often graces his lips.

Ruslan's personality is like the wind. At times, calm and breezy. At others, loud and wild. Some days, he thrives on action. Others, he thrives on quiet meditation. His heart is with his ancestors of old, thundering across the frozen tundra, and none may tame him. Generally, he's sharp and witty with a touch of genuine kindness and playfulness to his cocky demeanor. There's also a much more quiet, introverted side to him, which he rarely lets outsiders get a glimpse at.