------------------------Before the Event--------------
The Centaur’s patience soon vanished like smoke into the breeze of the trees, dissipating almost as quickly as he mastered it. His shoulders dropped as he let his breath escape his chest, his smile quickly fading into a puzzled glare. He could faintly hear the sounds of conversation just beyond the wooden frame, yet he began to feel lonely- abandoned by the high hopes that he had mustered at the start- merely cemented by the acknowledging shout from within the house, only to wait… and wait...and wait forever more. He moved in closer to the door, slowly moving near its structure. The world around him became silent and still, as he focused his senses on the muffled sounds that leaked from within, the sounds of those beyond this locked door. He moved closer still, leaning his body against the wall, having to bend at his middle to press the side of his face to the wooden door. All the while, his eyes gently drifted along the pattern of the dark wood, wandering through the lines, his mind adrift to draw the scene of the interior…
------------------During the Event--------------
A voice -one gruff and masculine- bellowed from behind, causing the Centaur to start. He recoiled from the door, lifting himself from his bend almost immediately- smacking his head against the top of the door frame as he did. He turned to the voice, fear having overtaken his face and shivers having occupied his body. Before he stood a broad, masculine figure donning pelts and fur, welding a heavy Axe in his hands. His posture looked alert and poised, ready for a battle. While the man saw a fight, The Centaur knew he was looking to his own demise. His eyes shut as he covered his hands over his face, unable to bear such an event.
What followed wasn’t the absolute slaughter of the Colt that he predicted, nor even the sound of an ax cutting through the air- but laughter. A kind of heartwarming and hearty laugh that nearly washed away the fright of before. He looked back to the man once more, emerging from hiding his face behind his palms. The man stood, laughing at the startled Colt, before politely introducing himself and explaining where the Centaur stood. He was currently at a Guild Hall, which he assumed to be the Wolve’s Den. The colt still shook- unable to recover from the start from only a few moments ago- however, His fear seemed to drain from his body like his color once did. Eventually, he managed to crack a smile through his nervous expression, lowering himself from his cowardly stance to meet the man fully. Said man then encouraged the Centaur to enter the wooden mansion- adding a rather questionable joke at the end. The Centaur stood for a moment, pondering the line. Was the man a cannibal? He thought, shivering at the thought as his eyes drift on the lines of the wooden door once more. Eventually, the thought was drowned out by the sudden stinging pain on his noggin, left by the door just a moment ago. He pressed his hand against it to quell the pain, as he pondered his next move. This next action would mark the beginning of a new life for the Centaur- for better or for worse.
------------------After Event----------------------
After slight hesitation, The Centaur slowly swung the door open and fit his upper torso into the doorframe, revealing a room before him- a room filled with more intimidating figures, donning an assortment of Armor and weaponry to put a hunting guild to Shame. “He-llo, is this … “ He stammered his words, growing more nervous at the sight. he took a breath to quell his fear, eventually owning up to the task of merely speaking. “Is this the Wolf Guild?”