Luxaeri Faelight

Luxaeri Faelight hauls a dented halberd across her shoulders with one gloved hand and a reins-knot in the other. Her centaur hindquarters are streaked with pale war-paint that she reapplies each dawn, right down to the toe-caps, tallying rules on a wax slate like they’re battle orders. When tempers flare, she recites the local code—loud, exact—then throws herself into the fight with measured discipline, not rage.