Windleaf
Basic Information
Full Name: Sutagara Windleaf
Sutagara is only a given name. Windleaf is the name of her tribe, which she has adopted as a surname for dealing with the more city-dweller peoples. Often, she even prefers being called Windleaf.
Age: 30. Over middle-aged for a centaur.
Gender: Female.
Birth Date:Summer Solstice.
Race: Nomadic Centaur.
Not all centaurs live a nomadic life, but many of the more traditional groups still swear by a restless lifestyle. They graze like a herd, until all the grass is eaten up so they can wander off again.
Alignment: Neutral, leaning Nephilim. Windleaf hasn't yet fully decided, but she's gradually heading towards the Institute.
She would always side with Raziel over Alithe, but she might just as well declare war on them both.
Appearance
Hair Colour:Shining white, both on the head and the body.
Eye Colour: Deep maroon.
Face Shape: Rough and angular as a mountain.
Skin Tone: Tan, with a hint of red.
Height:Centaurs ride like giants. A solid eight-and-a-half feet, or 260 centimeters.
Weight:1100 pounds.
Body Type:A war-horse with an attached warrior.
Natural Markings: Nil.
Scar(s): A deep horizontal gash along her back, and a disgusting scar on her face.
Tattoo(s): She has but one tattoo, hidden away on the back of her muscular neck: a leaf blowing in the wind.
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Personality
3 Words:Impulsively, loudly unpreditable.
Like(s): She loves the forests, the task of surviving on your own and the conjoining with the natural things.
She also has a great exhilaration in combat, and an admiration for lycans- the only humani to ever be one with the wilds.
Dislike(s): Her tribe followed an odd tradition regarding race. They believed that all the thinking creatures of the forest- elves, centaurs, fae, treants, and elementals- represented a part of nature itself. The elves are the plant-eaters, graceful and fleeting. The centaurs are predators, proud and fierce. The fae, finally, are the omnivores, sharp yet not malevolent. The treants are plants, of course, and the elementals represent the substances of nature itself.
So, who doesn't fit in?
She looks down on the dwarves, humani and corvi who live in the forests. They are intruders in nature's realm, taking from it but never adding. They clear out the plants and extinct the animals. Even the destruction of a fire elemental serves some purpose: they clear the way for regrowth. But when a humani or a dwarf makes their structures, nothing may ever recover again.
She has nothing against them if they stick to the clearings and the Wastelands and the mountains, where they clearly belong.
Want(s): Her only want is the forests, the freedom of exploration, and the rush of combat.
Fear(s):Windleaf only has three fears in this world: one for herself, one for her faith, one for her people.
For herself, Windleaf fears that she may never be able to cease wandering, but she is equally terrified of being held down by obligations. She fears that she won't always be the leaf blowing in the wind, and she fears that she will be.
For her faith, Windleaf 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.
For her people, Windleaf fears that the centaurs truly are just a magical conjoining of man and beast. Her entire people: a simple wizard's experiment gone wrong. No grand creation story, no oneness with nature. Just a spell going too far.
Favourite...
Colour(s):Red.Time of Day:The morning times, when golden sunlight first streams through the trees.
Food:Grass soup.
Animal:Horse. How could it be anything other than horse? When half an animal is growing out of your rear, you learn to like that animal.
She also likes boars. And wolves. And boars. And dogs. And boars. And did I mention that she likes boars?
Because she likes boars.
Place in Terra:Those clearings that occasionally run along the forests.
Skills and Attributes
Skills
Special ablilty/ies: None, outside of astounding athletics.
Good at...: Skilled with spears, blades and bows, Windleaf is a terror in the charge or from afar. Her speed and strength are renowned, even among the nomadic centaurs.
When it comes to more practical skills, years of wilderness survivor has taught all the basic skills for living in the forests: foraging, fire-starting and cooking, hunting (for pelts, not for food- the body is wasted on a herbivore) and subsequently skinning, wood-working... and so on.
Bad at...:Admitting failure. She's as stubborn as an old mule, and about as patient as one.
Traits
Good Habit(s):Quick to befriend, quick to forgive.
She can never hold a grudge. Before the offender can apologize, she's already forgotten the offense.
Bad Habit(s):Quick to anger, quick to kill.
She can never settle down. Before she can adapt to a new home, her hooves grow restless and her eyes turn towards the horizon.
History
The Past
Centaur birth is a painful and complicated ordeal. Especially when the baby is born hooves-first.
Sutagara split her mother's stomach in half. Their tribe's shaman tried to heal her, but these centaurs were warriors and gatherers, not spell-casters. Nothing could be done. It was bittersweet: a girl born and a woman dead on the same day.
From there, her childhood was nothing worth note. She was raised in a nomad's life. They grazed all the grass in sight, than moved on.
She tried many things as a foal. Hunting, gathering, cooking, building. She had a little skill for all of them, but as the little Sutagara grew, the tribe discovered her real talent. Even as a filly, she was eager to rush into a fight with the adults. But while she could shoot it like any of her kind, she often shied from the bow in favor of a sword or a spear. This marked her place.
She was a protector: her task was to defend the nomads from raiders, mercenaries, dwarves and humans- all were a little too common in a few of the countries her people wandered through. All the healthy centaurs could wield bows, to be sure, but a protector's role was unique as a swordswoman or spear-wielder. She would run with the other protectors, forming an impenetrable circle around the tribe. They galloped at full speed, round and round, so that no intruder could pierce into the tribe without facing their whirling blades. From within the defensive circle, the herd would fire arrows with lightening speed. By some miracle, they never hit their protectors.
Her life changed on the day a particularly vicious attacker managed to gash her along the back. It hurt, and it bled, but it wasn't a real threat, nor was it the first time she'd been injured. It would heal in time, maybe leaving a scar, and her life would continue the same way it always does.
Then it struck her: she'd suffered a dozen injuries just like this one in a dozen battles just like this one. Her life was stale and predictable. The only peaks of excitement, defending her herd, had become a routine event.
Centaurs live only fifty years. Sutagara was already nearing twenty. She had no time to waste.
Without stopping to consider, she suddenly knew what to do. The idea hadn't once occurred to her before but she was without doubt: it was her time to become a soldier.
She joined up with a fortress of nature's defenders. Mainly centaurs, but a fair few elves and elementals stood with them. They brought the fight right to the intruders: any dwarven or humani civilization which caused harm to the forests was first warned, then warned again, then destroyed.
These centaurs were nothing like the peaceful grazers that brought her into this world. They were proud soldiers in gleaming armor, each one a cavalry all their own. They rode into battle like thunder. If the her tribe was a herd, her army was a pride.
Windleaf, which she was now calling herself, rose quickly in respect. She was soon a commanding officer in the fortress's "cavalry" (read: centaurs) division. It was here that she learned the finer points of combat, and it was here that a deft little elf gave her the tattoo of a leaf blowing in the wind.
Her life changed on the day a particularly well-trained defender managed to gash her along the face. It burned, and it gushed, but it wasn't a real threat, nor was it the first time or the hundredth time she'd been injured. It might heal in time, definitely leaving a scar, and her life would continue the same way it always does.
It struck her: she'd suffered a hundred injuries just like this one in a hundred battles just like this one. Her life was stale and predictable. The only peaks of excitement, attacking the invaders, had become a routine event.
Centaurs live only fifty years. Windleaf was already nearing thirty. She had no time to waste.
Without stopping to consider, she suddenly knew what to do. The idea hadn't once occurred to her before but she was without doubt: it was her time to become an explorer.
And so without hesitation, she said her goodbyes, and left to explore the world... heading subtly to the Institute, all the way.
Windleaf may be traveling to the Institute, but she isn't a friend to Raziel. On the one hand, Alithe destroys nature wherever she goes, leaving only the disgusting Waste. On the other, Raziel's law often spawns civilization, which will ruin the forests if left unchecked. A balance is needed, but who can find one? Certainly not the "angels".
But.
The Institute is a place of great knowledge. Windleaf is far from a scholar, but her travels have still given her many questions. She's seen unexplainable things, and met people of many faiths. All of it has left her wondering: are the Gods her tribe believed in true? And if so, did they create centaurs, or is her whole existence the spawn of some twisted magic? These unanswered questions burn in her mind. She has to find the truth, and she fears that the Institute may be the only place such knowledge can be found.
So for now, the traveling centaur heads slowly for the Raziel's realm, but only because the knowledge he wields may answer her. When she knows all she needs to know, perhaps she can chose a side, or perhaps she will leave the balance of chaos and order in the hands of her Gods.
Her whole life has been somewhat of a blur, traveling from place to place and waging battle after battle. Only a few memories stay firmly in her conscious.
The most persistent memory is of her grandmother, telling her the stories of their tribal pantheon. There were nine gods, each residing over different elements and concepts.
She respects and loves all her deities, but her favorite was and is Espeeria, God of the Wind, Travelers, and the Restless. He is the God said to have created centaurs from his great breath. She still carries a small wooden symbol of Him around her neck.
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