Tychus

"Where to begin?  I hate to come across as just another sad sappy story in a city full of  horrible grief stricken tales. I don't look at my life like that. What I see is a rough life, but a good one. I've no regrets about decisions I've made, though I do harbor a grudge or two against certain people. I'm not a perfect centaur, and I don't expect anyone else to know where I'm coming from. This is my best try at explaining. I don't remember my parents. When I say that, I mean I don't remember their faces. I know they existed. In fact I know that they sent me off into the world of their own free will. Nature would be my teacher growing up, trial and error my guide. I had some very close calls as a child, but I managed well enough. I don't regret their decision to leave me to my own devices. I always liked being a loner. The peace and quiet of the plains is comforting, and the bustle of city life was never appealing, which encouraged me to avoid the southern towns. I was even offered acceptance into a few centaur tribes, but I never took the offer. I'm different from them in many ways."

"I made my mistake, drinking from a small stream one morning. In the blink of an eye, the rope was around my neck, and there was pressure on my back. I tried my best to throw my soon to be captor, but it was useless. His cronies jabbed at me with spears, and soon I was too tired to lift my head, let alone throw a rider in full armor. A day later I was roped up in a yellow tent, pinned to stakes in the ground, hands bound in shackles. Centaurs value their freedom over all else. We are a proud race, even the most humble of us. Slavery is harsh enough. To be ridden by force in full saddle and reins is an insult I can hardly bear. My captor turned out to be a commander for the Southern Warlord. His black armor I became very familiar with as his dark spurs dug into my flanks. He barked orders at slaves building war machines as he sat tall on his trophy mount. He had a terrible habit of cutting swatches of my white hair off, as gifts to ladies he fancied. I suppose this is all why I let my hair grow, and why I can't stand to take up riders. It brings me back to this unfortunate time in my life."

"Luckily, if luck has anything to do with it, my captivity did not last long. He grew careless, thinking he had control of me. Two years and five days to the date of my capture, I managed to reach behind me and wrap my shackles around the commander's neck. I didn't kill him. I only threw him. Freedom lay in front of me and I did not keep it waiting. I was off and heading north as fast as my hooves could carry me. No orc or soldier would stop me, and the commander could scream loud as he liked. It would do them no good and after a few hours they gave up the chase. I wasn't their only slave. They had plenty. I'm sure I damaged that commander's ego though. I do wonder if this is the last I've seen of him."

"I came to Gahlen after that.  My life as a wanderer ended with my capture. It was time I began a new stage in life. I need to know more about centaurs. Why do I not look like the southern tribal centaurs? Perhaps the legendary Centaur Isle has those answers? We shall see what lies before me."