In times long gone, the centaur people were split, herds living independently of one another in the verdant places of the world.
Though all were guardians of the wild places, exactly what form that took differed from herd to herd, with these belief systems clashing to the point that it was not uncommon for the herds to fight each other, along with all outsiders.
Some herds took a pacifistic approach, exiling themselves, taking methods to render themselves invisible, such as the centaurs of Darkwood.
Others however took the conflict to the outsiders, becoming war-like, scouring the wilds of all civilization without exception, whilst yet more took a middling approach, dissuading outsiders from damaging nature and educating them in cultivation and harmony.
Notoriously isolationist, the centaurs believed on mass that they were the chosen of the natural world; defenders, protectors, druids, shaman, and rangers, who's decree was final in matters of the wild.
However, this proved to be their downfall, as their insular conflict soon lead them to being the architects of their own decline.
As their numbers dwindled, herds became smaller until they became a rarity in the realms, an almost mythological race, fallen into folk stories of aggressive barbarians or exterminationist nature cultists with a love of drinking and human sacrifice. Something that only the Tel'quessir could refute, if only they were asked.
And then came the long night.
Isolationist as they were, it did not take long before the rampaging hoards cornered the less social tribes, slaughtering them to a man. Others aligned themselves with likeminded herds, and as the bands began to retreat towards the north, they were able to forge yet greater alliances from the egregious necessity of impending doom.
Eventually, Ashra's long unstoppable force saw the tribes thrust beyond their previous roaming lands, through the mountains, past the dangers of Darkwood and through the veil, where finally, they found respite.
Deep within the Kilkean forest, the remaining herds, now hardened and forged in blood and fire set eyes upon a wonderous grove. The likes of which, no mortal had seen before. Verdant and bright, this haven welcomed them wordlessly.
The land was fertile, with game and flora a plenty. Indeed, though on guard for anything, the grove soon proved itself once more to be a magical place, as curiously, the monsters never followed…
Though the centaur scouts could travel too and from with impunity, no others but those who held the sanctity of growth and renewal were permitted within, any and all pathways blocked with thriving overgrowth and protected by majestic nature spirits; Eucalia's seedlings among others.
In time, thankful for the utopia they were offered, the herds set aside old enmities and began to flourish once more, this time under the loving guidance of the dryad, Eucalia, the Unbound.
Pledging themselves to their saviour and giving thanks to the Celestial Light, the herds, once broken and now united by cause, promised to cultivate and restore, to grow and renew the lands of the realms, returning those rare seeds to Eucalia's grove and restoring lost growth to its rightful place.