Niobe

As thou windest thy way through a peaceful wood, a slight rustling and faint
movement at the edge of thine vision doth attract thine notice. Turning hither
and yon th'art unable to ascertain from whence this disturbance did come. Giving
up thine fruitless inquiry, thou prepareth to proceed upon thine journey when
again thine ears art assailed by the phantom sounds.

Before th'art able to seek the vesper, a poem of life doth appear before thee.
Her torso is that of a human female, well-formed in it's supple curves and
majestic lines, while the balance of her being is that of a simple hind. With
undisguised curiosity and awe thine eyes travel length and breadth of this
lovely creature, taking in the delicate cloven hoofs, dancing lightly on their
bed of pine needles, the chestnut hide gleaming in the subdued boreal sun, the
bronze skin of the bare human torso and her shining auburn tresses, which fall
in soft waves to where the two bodies fuse.

She regarteh thee with soft amber eyes, trying to discover thine purpose within
the wood. Blinking once, she moveth slightly, allowing thee to pass. As thou
contiune thy travels her quiet admonishon doth ring within thine ears:

"Continue on thy way, Traveller, but harm not the gentle creatures thou shouldst
encounter, ere ye incur eternally mine wrath, and the wrath of all mine kind."

Thou hast no doubt that this centaur hath the ability to uphold her promise.

Niobe's life went through some drastic changes, and her description changed to reflect it:

The years hath not tread kindly upon the centaur thee seest before thee. Mistake
not, the beauty of her youth hath not faded, indeed with age it hath deepened.
Her once gleaming auburn hair is streaked at the temples with grey, and the
first signs of age touch her face about her lips and eyes. However, the story
told by when thee look into her eyes belays the hardships that hath hounded her
throughout her life.

Gone is the spark of life from her eye, and the joyful step with which she did
move. Rather, her eyes are filled with an ineffable sadness, as though her soul
hath been torn from her body, leaving an empty husk. Her movements are labored,
as though with each step she bears the weight of a thousand sinner's souls. She
looks upon thee, and thee can see wisdom and experience behind the melancholy,
but there is no spark of hope.

This gentle centaur did start life with but one goal: to serve the Light and
walk in the service of the Lord Adorno. Unworthy in his eyes, she did serve him
with her heart for the balance of her life, spreading Light and goodness where-
soever she did journey. It did come to pass that she was to wed the Lord's High
Priest, Qahntak, but the Lord found her unworthy of his Priest's love, and did
cause that joining not to pass. Her faith in Adorno torn from her, she did see
a shadow cast over the Light which she once did serve, and now seeks to find
the solace that Knowledge, untainted by Light or Dark, doth bring. Her feet doth
seek the path of balance now, with the same strenght of character that did mark
all her intercourses with the world formerly.

Her heart is still open and generous, but it cannot see the Light as it once did
The Light hath abandoned her, e'en as she hath abandoned it.