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Board's Plot: Blood Rites
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Established February 2010
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* Plot Information for Dharo

The intrigue that drives, and plagues, the Territory of Dharo has built and destroyed empires throughout the Territory; and everyone is eager for political power. The reign of Rheava Evesham has been challenged by these power struggles and even more so by the undercutting of power in her Court. The game of politics had bred the need for Spies within the Territory and they have become the backbone of the Queen's reign.
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Author Topic: Works in Progress  (Read 115 times)


Offline Harrison Graywarren

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Works in Progress
« on: May 12, 19, 07:29:25 PM »
Harrison Graywarren liked fixing things. He knew fewer pleasures greater than seeing something broken or neglected restored to its true potential under his hands. He liked fixing people most of all: finding out what hurt them and taking what steps he could to make that hurt go away. But people were complex creatures and their broken parts not always easy to mend. Sometimes they wouldn’t even let him try. He accepted that. Their pain was not about him. It was simply frustrating, that was all, to watch someone suffer when he would prefer to snap his fingers and make them better again.

Objects, fortunately, were different. Whether it was mending clothing for one of his sisters or re-attaching the wheel on one of his brothers’ toys, all it usually took was a bit of time and care to set them to rights again. There wasn’t a lot to need fixing around the house beyond his siblings’ personal possessions, and what there was usually came under the purview of one of the staff. Harrison would never impinge on someone’s livelihood to fulfill his own needs (unless, of course, something particularly unwieldy had been damaged in the course of running off a tutor. Then it felt rude not to help), so the young man was left to seek outlets elsewhere.

His mother had had her charities, as many people of finances and ethics did, and giving his time and efforts to one also made him feel close to her. This particular one ran a program to teach riding and horsemanship skills to poorer children from the nearby city, and from time to time, needed repairs done to their equipment. Or even a new saddle or bridle crafted altogether. But those times were rare. Most often, a broken buckle or distressed strap could be swapped out for new: simple repair, but soothing for his hands to focus on when his mind turned in circles like a restless dog.

Today, the question of the new tutor occupied his thoughts. Or it did until he let himself sink into the pile of tack that was this week’s task, so absorbed in his work that it was likely the twins could have blown past his work bench and the young man would never notice.

Offline Samson Graywarren

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Re: Works in Progress
« Reply #1 on: May 22, 19, 06:28:45 PM »
Night, he needed a ride. Yes, the Healer had told him to limit his physical exertion. Yes, she had specifically mentioned that riding on horseback was not yet advisable. Yes, she'd outright forbidden him to go any faster than a brisk walk on his personal steed - a lovely chestnut mare with white socks on her two front legs.

That did not stop him from halfway-ignoring most of her instructions today as he made his way out to the stables. Distantly, he was able to begrudgingly suppose that his children must have gotten their rebelliousness from somewhere. He could not stand being cooped up, and if their studies were doing the same such thing to them, he really couldn't blame them for acting out a little bit.

He'd have to speak to Beckett to make sure they weren't being cloistered. The man seemed to have a good head on his shoulders and was eager enough to engage the children, but he never trusted someone as being fully capable and fore-thinking until he had several examples personally witnessed. Beckett Orval, for all he certainly seemed to belong in Samson's space and household - with his quips of knowledge, his enthusiasm, and that thing he did with his mouth when he was thinking that Samson couldn't decide whether he liked or not (not that it was his place to have an opinion at all, he supposed...) - had not actually been there all that long. It would take some time for him to be granted full confidence.

Samson, caught up in his own thoughts, did not immediately notice that his eldest son was also in the stables when he entered.

"I bet you feel as cooped up as I do," he rumbled quietly to the pretty mare as he stopped before her stall and ran a rough but gentle hand down her nose, offering her a bribe of carrot pieces he'd stolen from the kitchen before coming out this way. "Damn the Healer, we are going out today. Maybe we will both remember a bit how to breath, yes?"