There was once a time when humans, centaurs, imps, and dark elves lived in perfect harmony. That was a very long time ago.
Centaurs worked in the cornfields beside farmers. Imps mowed lawns, babysitted, and got drinks with and for humans. Dark Elves were high executives for booming companies, and sat next to the heads of state like they were family.
It didn't last long.
Humans, because of their nature, became suspicious of all the "creatures" that "plagued" their cities and towns. They were unable to accept they they were people too, and that they meant no harm.
There were riots and mass murders, all against the inhumans of society. The population was dropping, and sadness filled all the hearts of those who were given the gift of hooves, wings, or pointed ears. And after a time, even the government set out to rid the world of them. Forever.
Someone had to act.
When the numbers of all three races were miniscule to the point of extinction, they had to find somewhere to go. To be safe, and to be free of the horrors of humankind.
A leader emerged from each race, to unite them and take them away from this genocide.
Aeleth the dark elf, Kali the imp, and Jurras the centaur made the decision. They would bring together all the creatures they could, and they would lead them to safety.
The Pathfinders, as they are now called, endured a long and hard battle for their people. For years they tried to negotiate with the human government, to little avail. But, eventually, the government budged. They agreed to allow a haven for the creatures. The Pathfinders were to gather up as many of each race as they could, and take them deep into the wilderness, never to be seen again by humankind. Humans would never bother them again, so long as not a single hoof or claw or toe crossed the border of the forest.
The Pathfinders were happy to make the compromise. After a few days of gathering their forces, they left, never to enter a human city again.
They found their forest.
The Forest of the Zealous.
Many years later, after The Pathfinders were long dead, the citizens of the Forest found themselves outside of their usual peace. Some wanted to just be peaceful and happy; others wanted to establish their own government and have order. Eventually, the disagreements grew, until there were fights all throughout the forest. Without The Pathfinders to guide them, they were in complete anarchy.
They didn't try to stop it, they just sat back and watched the fighting and bloodshed grow. Until one day, a young centaur -- his name now long forgotten -- stood out in the middle of a crowd of other creatures, and made himself heard.
He had the solution to the problem. Five clans, he proposed to them. Five clans with their own leaders and their own community and their own battles.
And they listened.
That young centaur became the first clan leader: he started Myrrh.
An angelic imp inspired Zephyr.
An imposing dark elf created Regalia.
A battle-crazed imp founded Scoria.
A deadly dark elf became the head of Shadowbane.
And, through many generations, The Forest of the Zealous has gotten to where it is today. Though the tension among the clans remains. Will they stay in their separate sections of the woods, away from people and each other? Or will they continue to try and mingle with each other, contradictory to their recent establishments?
Will you be Zealous?
