[Marley]

When Fyn was chosen to not only be the bearer of new centaurs of his herd's dying population but also the one to trek across the land to meet the Mage who was the sole individual who could make it happen. The remaining dominant centaurs in his herd had gone mysteriously sterile, and after a rather long winded war with another herd not too far from their own territory, they were really falling into a dark spot. The carrier centaurs were still fertile and able to produce their mating hormones, but the ones who should have been the ones to breed? They couldn't. The herd elder thought it was a trick from their rival herd to the east, but nothing could be proven fully and it would be a bad idea to assume such an act from said other herd. The elder wanted someone young to make the journey to the Mage - the one that had supposedly helped before but Fyn didn't know them - and after some thinking, he'd picked Fyn after a few days. And with reason, Fyn was pissed. He didn't want to carry any stupid centaur spawn; the herd should figure out what's wrong with their breeders and fix it! Even though he was somewhat smaller than average, Fyn was the fastest in the herd (and he could proudly say he could outrun even the largest dominant breeder in their ranks) and healthy. Maybe that was why he'd been picked? It wasn't exactly as if they'd had a whole lot of young and healthy centaurs to even choose from though. Fyn was only one of maybe six or seven others. Times were rough.

Even though he didn't want to do this, he knew he'd be looked at as a failure and selfish by his herd if he refused... so, he didn't. He'd thought at first he might be able to convince the herd elder to allow his best friend to go but he'd been instructed it was a one-man journey, so he told his friend sullenly he'd be back soon and set off. The trip took about a week total, but by the time he got to the temple, Fyn wanted to turn right around and head back home. He knew he couldn't do that without first getting eternally screwed over so instead he made his way up the steps of the Mage's temple, frowning at the eerie quietness. He ran a hand through his short tousled brown hair, his matching dark brown tail of his horse half flicking impatiently. His coat was of a Paint, white with brown spotting. Nothing too special. As he continued onwards, he glanced around the temple, looking for any movement. "Hello?" he called out nervously. "Uh... I'm from the Asmonia Herd, in the plains..?"