Bridget_Rose

Name: Bridget Rose
Age: 24
Sex: Female
Race: Tauric


War changes people, this goes the same for every species. And Bridget is definitely not immune to its effects. Forced into service by the Elves at a young age gathered very little in the way of training before her first battle, the time she came up against an army she couldn't help but feel fear sure as the rider that rode her back that day. The way he tried to calm her before the horn sounded, his first kicks at her side kicking up something inside her forcing her legs to almost move on their own volition, charging forward the roaring sound of others like her at her side. The field large by most bipedal standards was quickly crossed and soon enough her long lance crashed into the shield wall and the battle began, she doesn't remember much about the day, but it still haunts her to the very core, it was primal, it was horrifying, and it was fun.

After the first clash realizing how much stronger she was over her human opponent she felt considerably more comfortable, the battle became fluid and she fought so hard that she didn't even realize that her mount had died within the first few seconds of her fight his limp body still attached to her throughout the whole conflict, and when it was over and she finally realized what she had done, she found herself feeling afraid, and worried as to how someone could possibly have enjoyed that. Walking through the encampment after the battle found out that over two hundered Centaurs perished in the fray, but people kept commenting on a demon horse that had flooded the battlefield, its body hulking and unstoppable, these stories were about her, she could tell because even the elves wouldn't look at her in the eye, she was a monster to them. For a moment she thought of turning and running, instead she chose to become just that, pressing out the pounding emotions threatening to swallow her steeled herself and forced herself to move on, She paid them little attention moving back to her stable where one of the elvish hands started removing her armor plates dozens of arrows sticking out of her flank finally realizing that her body had been injured a few times.

The war went on, and Bridget continued to lead battle after battle to victory, at the expense of anyone that decided they were brave enough to ride her usually finding themselves slaughtered on the field completely failing to understand that she should be working WITH her counterparts almost completely forgetting that they even existed the moment that horn sounded. As such she never found it worth trying to build relationships with those that she was paired to knowing that at the next battle they will find themselves in the embrace of the Goddess.

This however wasn't forever, eventually the war ended, a stalemate forcing both sides to conceed, and a war horse like herself quickly found that she no longer served a purpose like many of her kind quickly found themselves pushed out of elvish culture as soon as they possibly could forcing them into nomad lifestyles. Once proud centaur now without purpose wanders the lands trying to find her place.

Bridgets personality can sometimes come off as standoffish, she would seem to try to find herself not making any personal connections as though afraid of what would happen to them if she did. This combined with her strong physique could come across as making her sound mean or distant. However all that is rooted in that first battle, the choices she made in order to survive. She tends to be strong and independent almost always refusing help even for tasks that she can't complete on her own.

Due to the way that she was treated at the end of the war, Bridget has found herself with a resentment towards bipeds Humans for slaughtering her kind, and Elves for abandoning them, as such she prefers significantly to be around her own kin tauric species who all in her mind went through the same strife and hardships as she did.

After the war, the Centaur became a nomadic species, they didn't bother rooting themselves and it wasn't uncommon for one to be seen carrying everything that they owned on their backs, Usually traveling in herds going from city to city to trade setting up rather large tent towns on the outskirts of major places of commerce, however at times these places would be attacked and foals would be stolen and sold into slavery, Centaurs making excellent work slaves for those fortunate enough to control them. The soldiers that remained among the clans did everything they could but every few months one or two would go missing regardless.

Most of the others that didn't travel with the herds would try and find work on their own, sepearating themselves and moving into cities to pull carts, and some few growing large farms that they would tend to peacefully, for most however, life for them after the war wasn't easy.