[center] [img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLjcxMDUwZC5jM1YwWVdkaGNtRWdWMmx1Wkd4bFlXWSwuMAAA/gds-infinity.regular.png[/img] [/center] Damn these elves, damn them both to the worst of the Wastes! First they defend some hideous abomination, then they almost ruin her best chance to the Institute! And how the elf-man spoke... He grinned and "charmed", then threatened to stalk them like a coward. It was an insult hiding under a sheath of compliments. Windleaf knew: she had no choice but to convince the Nephilim she was different from the elves. She thought rapid, she thought hard, but she thought of no magic words to salvage this. She was not a diplomat. The stupid, blubbering lies of politicians made her head spin, and so did this arrogant elf. His words were smooth like honey, but each was for himself. The centaur urged to beat his smug face in with her hooves. She took in a deep breath, fought it off, and beat the dirt in instead. If the elf was smooth but selfish, she could be rough but righteous. [color=red]"No. It's more than that. It's important."[/color] Damn again! She would have to do better than that. Racking her mind for all it's worth, she spat out: [color=red]"It's [b][u]very [/u][/b]important."[/color] She stopped and sighed and felt like a fool. That impish rat, that Fleshspinner, he had such complex insults. He sounded like a madman, sure, but he sounded like an [b]educated[/b] madman. Windleaf couldn't even shake her centaurian accent: she still stretched all her "R"s a mile long, turned every "E" into an "A", every "O" into an "A", every "I" into an "U", and most "D"s into a soft "Dr". "It's [u][b]very [/b][/u]important" becomes [b]Ut's [u]varrry [/u]umparrrtant.[/b] She knew what she wanted, but she did not know how to put it into words. In her heart, the goal was honest. Her grandmother had been telling Windleaf of her tribe's gods since before she could even understand the language. She grew with those gods, those myths, buried in her heart like a treasure. Much time passed, but it could never erode her belief. She stood on a mountain of faith. Until, one typical day, she met herself. Another who was a centaur, a warrior, a tribeswoman, an explorer, and a keeper of infinite faith. A [b]different [/b]faith. It was then that the most painful reality of all hit Sutagara like a hammer: both their gods can't exist, and if this woman can have so much doubtless faith in a false religion, what makes the Windleaf tribe any different? Much time passed, and her belief eroded with it. Now, she fears that the Gods she has always worshiped are only deluded myths spread by bored centaurs. What if Raziel and Alithe are all there is to the world? A desolate truth. A truth she would have to live with forever. A truth that also meant Raziel created all life, and all nature. A truth that means Raziel is the God of the woods- the God of [b]her[/b]. The accented centaur concentrated hard on what she said next. She was determined that no poor speech and no inflection would hold her back. [i]Focus[/i], she said to herself, [i]do this and focus. Focus, focus.[/i] [color=Red]"Since I was a little girl, my tribe told me the stories of our ancient Gods. They were everything to me. They guided me when I feared. But I doubt them now. I don't know if they are real. I do not know if anyone can tell me of whether the Gods exist, but if anything can, it's the library at the Institute. It might not have what I need, but it's my only hope to find it out. If my gods are false, and all the world is Raziel and Alithe, then I know that Raziel [u]must [/u]be a god, and the God who created all my forests, and all my nature, and all my world. If that is true, I will never waver from him. I [u]will [/u]join the Nephilim. I [u]will [/u]serve Raziel." [/color] Sutagara Windleaf may not understand speech, but she does understand combat. She had delivered the greatest blow she could, now it was time to force the enemy into defense. She looked the elf in his dull eyes. [color=red]"Will you, friend?"[/color]