Chapter 46: What Sorcery
Masai laid upon the grass lawn in his spew, from too much ale. He was dead to the world indeed, alone in a great wide open field, there for the taking, if indeed he was wanted… but he wasn’t. He was massive as he was strong, with many a healed and faded scar across his body, from his hoofs to his abdominal muscles which catapulted like a steel vest with sharp and tidy rippling effects, pure muscle… He had lost his family to drink, -as his wife and children left him… He was addicted to ale and fortunately for Sylvan, his only cure was war, for he was wildly untamed and free as the wind. He did not run with his herd, for he was even abandoned by them, as being his partner always led to trouble or a skirmish for no other known reason than he missed the perils and triumphs of war. That was what he was created and trained for, what he lived for, and it was apparent to him he had no purpose other than this… as he was the former leader and champion of former wars won by the Centaurs in the days of old.
Sylvan sought to resurrect Masai once again, to give his life meaning once more, if even for a little while. But looking at him as he lay in his drunkenness, Sylvan knew he’d have a lot of work ahead of him, to get him back into shape for battle, so that Masai could lead his fellow Centaurs, and for this he knew Masai would have to make amends.
It would be a long road ahead. Sylvan took out his bottle of water from his holster, and without further ado poured it over Masai’s face, until Masai came to. After coughing and sputtering for a moment, believing he was drowning, he opened his eyes to see the Wizard Sylvan before him, “What sorcery is this?!?” He questioned demandingly.
“This is no sorcery Masai. This is your calling,” Sylvan replied.