PM to join A Woman Scorned

[Dravite]

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43 Summer, 515 AV
Early morning, 5th Bell

Belkaia tip-toed her fingers across the man's chest before combing the tapered digits through the light smattering of hair set below his collarbone. It was early, sometime before the fifth bell and neither of them had been able to get much sleep with the bout of hot weather Endrykas had been experiencing. Dravite closed his hand over that of his wife's and kissed the folded joints of the woman's fingers. Their son was fast asleep on the makeshift bed of furs, tucked in with a light, summer blanket. Belkaia, bare as the day she was born, draped a leg across the horse lord's middle and cooed.
"Something troubles you, my love."

Dravite grunted. Belkaia closed her teeth gently against the lobe of his right ear and hissed, "tell me."
The horse lord smiled on account of him being rather ticklish, but did well not to budge, "just work, that is all."
"That is just the beginning," his wife scolded in jest as she hooked the waistband of his black trousers and led the material down, away from his hips.

Dravite closed his eyes, a familiar sensation stirring in his loins, stomach muscles tightening, toes tucked against the pads of his feet; he was tired, but Belkaia had a way of waking him up. Still, his eyes were heavy and movements languid. As the Drykas woman shifted to mount her mate, she was swiftly put on her back, a hot mouth closed over taut peak, tongue swept across pink, pebbled flesh. Breath hitched and fingers raked over weathered skin, the woman felt a delicious weight settle between her thighs. Dravite closed his large palm over the woman's mouth as he buried himself. Belkaia hummed into his hand and turned her nails against his back.
"Kiss me," he ordered as he drew his hand back.

Belkaia turned from him defiantly and the horse lord withdrew.

"Kiss me," he spoke against her jaw, dragging his teeth lightly over the skin.

Twice refused the man put his wife on her knees before closing his teeth against her right shoulder, leaving love-bites that would darker and perhaps even bruise later in the day. When he was done with her the two did not speak but the woman lay down against her husband's form and pulled his arms around her. Dravite closed his eyes and was soon fast asleep while Belkaia lay awake; cursing every breath he stole from the world.

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[Dravite]

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8th Bell

Trail stood at the opening of the tent staring down at the sleeping Drykas man, tangled up in a mess of blankets and furs. "You're late for our lesson," the Reyvekh scolded with mild amusement and Drivate sat up quickly and tossed the furs back.
"Shyke! Sorry," he rubbed his face and found his trousers, pulling them on before struggling half-asleep to his feet.

Outside Belkaia was sitting in the shade with Kyanite, feeding the boy his breakfast. Dravite looked at the pan, it seemed there was nothing left for him; he would go hungry today, hopefully, he thought to himself, that wouldn't see a lack of concentration follow. Quickly the man gathered his things and went to his horse. Trail was already seated comfortably on the back of his mare, waiting for Dravite to collect his things and join him. Once the two of them were set, Trail waved goodbye to Belkaia and the pair were on their way.

Beyond the wind-knotted gates, the horses were free to set their own pace, Cree choosing to race ahead of the sturdy mare; his black tail lifted, a dark stream of hair surfing the breeze. "Just there," Trail pointed to a line-up of logs The Watch had dug into the ground for training purposes, doing his best to keep up with the charging Buckskin.

Dravite looked ahead and studied the layout of the training grounds. At the top of the logs Trail had set up wind-chimes decorated with clattering seashells and around the wooden structures spread in a large circle, he had placed straw targets set with small, red pieces of cloth used to mark the centres. "What would you have me do?" Dravite asked, slowing his horse to a manageable trot.

"Race him between the logs, see if he will go; the plains are vast and trees are few, in battle your lines of movement will be restricted by men, vegetation, and other horses, if this spooks him, just imagine what the noise and tight confines of war will do to him."

Dravite lined up a strike with his spear and took a cheeky shot at one of the marks as he charged by on his Strider. He measured the distance well and took the speed of his mount into consideration before thrusting the weapon forward into the straw target. The bone-spear lanced the edge of the mark and wavered back and forth before stilling, abandoned by the horse lord who then readied his new weapon; the Bec de Corbin.

As Cree raced towards the logs set a metre and a half from each other, his ears turned back to listen to his rider as if unsure of what he was expected to do. Dravite steered the animal towards the gap and encouraged him with a firm, decisive tone. As they neared the logs, Dravite raised the Bec de Corbin, a much heavier weapon than his spear, which took more upper body strength to wield. He swung low as Cree dashed between the logs and as the head of the weapon clipped the edge of the log, shattering the thick layer of dried bark, Cree lashed out, performing a tremendous kick that would have seen Dravite thrown from the saddle of the horse’s back if he had not quickly released his weapon to take a handful of the stallions wild mane.

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[Dravite]

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Once Cree had settled and came to a stop, Dravite let go of the black hair and watched as half a fistful of mane floated to the ground. He scratched the Strider's neck where he had torn the hair from and apologised, rubbing the animal's shoulder. "That wasn't bad!" Trail smiled, "except you're dead now; someone just slammed you from behind with their axe while you sat defenceless, with your weapon only ten feet away.
Dravite smirked. "I'm still recovering from a broken rib, it's more important to stay on the horse right now than it is to stay armed."
"Again," Trail ordered, he didn't have any time for sob stories.

Dravite slipped from the back of his horse and ran over to collect his weapon, before carrying on to remove the other from the straw mound, his feet finding space between the tussocks of tall grass as he ran. The spear came away with ease and soon the man was back on his horse, trotting the circumference of the training grounds to ready Cree for the next attack.

With flared nostrils and thundering hooves the stallion carried his rider towards the row of logs, again uncertain about the towering structures and rattling noise from the seashells. As he ducked between the first two, excepting the clatter of steel against wood, Dravite felt the animal's muscles tighten between his legs and surprised him by not raising the weapon to strike. Again they galloped about the outer rim of the training grounds and the horse lord used his bare heels to steer his mount towards his chosen target, raising his spear to line up another shot. His skill with the weapon was proficient, but far from the expectations he had set himself at the end of spring. His hold was good, grip not too tight like it was when wielding the Bec de Corbin. As they flew towards the target on the right, Dravite thrust the spear into the straw only to take it forth with him to swiftly throw into the next; this time landing a strike closer to the centre.
"Excellent!" He heard Trail call, "search ahead, you only have a few ticks to plan your next move; make it count!"

A high attack, Dravite had already decided, planning where he aimed to set the sharpened crow's beak of the Bec de Corbin. It took all of the strength in his right arm to lift the weapon and his muscles shuddered as he swung and planted the head of the weapon high against the log while Cree raced between the makeshift trees.
"Think, Dravite!" Trail called, angry that his student had let go of his weapon once more.

That was when Dravite surprised the man and presented his dagger swiftly, stabbing it forward into the tightly rolled straw only to carry on with the short-bladed weapon still in hand. As the two men met on the edge of the training grounds, Dravite sheathed his dagger and patted his mount's shoulder. "I have to admit, you caught me off guard with the last one," Trail smiled.
"I guess your tricks are starting to rub off on me," the horse lord smirked.
"Perhaps you're just using your head for once."
Dravite roared with laughter, "careful!"
Trail grinned, "go get your things, as sweaty as you smell I think there is still life in you yet."
"Again?" Dravite asked.
"Again!" Trail confirmed.

The two parted ways and Dravite dismounted once more to run across the grassy field on foot and collect his things. The training with The Watch was becoming more and more intensive and Dravite couldn't help but wonder if the group had bigger plans for some of their members. It wouldn't be the first time he had worked hard towards an undefined goal and it would surely not be the last.

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[Dravite]

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The stallion was getting used to this strange game, darting between what looked like trees only to turn sharply and race back. The shells no longer bothered him and the whack of the weapon against the chipped bark made him flinch less. Dravite lifted the Bec de Corbin as the Strider turned and raced back towards the logs. He timed his strike, moving his arm down in a lazy swing that allowed him to use the weight of the weapon to his advantage. This time when they emerged on the other side of the logs, Dravite still had the weapon in hand.
"Weak!" Trail scolded, "again!"

Dravite raised his gaze skyward as if to summon strength from the god Zulrav. He steered his mount towards the gap, picking up speed now that the animal had grown in confidence. Tightening his grip, the horse lord raised his weapon and swung, this time putting all of his strength behind the blow that tore weathered bark from the log. He brought the buckskin stallion to a sudden halt and slid off the animal's back, dropping his weapon to wash his right eye out with the water-skin.

The rumble of hooves that were just a whisper in the distance turned into a roar as Trail moved to join the man. "What happened?" He called, his voice laced with concern.
"I think I got some dust or wood into my eye."
Trail got off his horse and held his student's face, tipping his head back to look into his eyes, "let me see," he murmured, setting the pad of his thumb against the outer corner of the man's eye to stretch back the skin and then pull it down to look under the orb, "just a bit of dust perhaps."
Dravite rubbed his eyes and blinked away whatever he had felt there momentarily, "how was that?"
"The eye?" Trail asked.
"No, the swing!" Dravite grinned.
"Not bad," the taller man smiled, "you're improving."
"Slowly," Dravite agreed.
"You need to work on your upper body strength," Trail insisted.
"Well what do you suggest?"
"Come with me."

The two men walked to the edge of the training grounds towards the lake, leading their Striders through the tall grass. Twenty chimes had passed before they arrived at the lakeside. Trail threw an empty sack at Dravite and pointed to the sand around the edge of the lake. "What's this for?" Dravite asked.
"Fill it."
"With what?"
"Sand," Trail told him, "you fill that one and I'll fill this one."

Neither of them intended for the exercise to become a race, but as both men worked to fill their bag with sand, shovelling it in with their bare hands, one would glance at the other and suddenly speed up. Dravite matched Trail's pace twice before he realised what he was up to. "No," the horse lord shook his head, "please don't make me."
Trail laughed and pulled the strings on the sack to secure the sand inside of it. "Don't be such a child; you want to be a warrior yes?"
Dravite nodded.
"Then you have to be prepared to work and improve."

Dravite tightened the top of the sandbag and tied it closed before looking across at Trail. "All right, tell me what I must do."
"Both bags, one for each shoulder," Trail ordered, "slow lifts, we don't want you overdoing it."

The man sighed and lifted the first of the sandbags onto his shoulder, starting with the right; the weaker of the two. Trail placed the second down on the left and stepped back. "Too heavy?" He asked.
"No," Dravite smiled, they weren't that bad.
"They will be," Trail smirked, "now lift."

Dravite did as he was told, getting to his feet slowly. He stepped forward, carrying the sandbags with him.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Dravite turned and looked at Trail, "aren't we going back?"
"You ever heard of a squat?"
Dravite twitched, stared at Trail and when he realised the man wasn't kidding, he slowly lowered his body into a squat before standing again, only to repeat the process. Soon his legs were shaking, straining to lift the sandbags.
"Still easy?" Trail smirked.
Dravite couldn't help but smile, sweat beading at his brow. “How is this helping my upper body strength exactly?”
“It isn’t,” Trail grinned. “I just wanted to keep you busy while I set up the actual challenge.”

Dravite laughed and threw the sandbags down on the ground before he looked across at the rope that Trail had managed to throw up and over one of the high branches of the tree. He tied both of the sandbags to one end of the rope and took the other end and held it out to Dravite. “There you go.”
“Oh Syna… let me guess.”
This time it was Trails turn to laugh. “Pull, rinse, and repeat.”

The muscles in his legs were already burning, now his arms were about to join the party. Dravite tugged the rope, feeding part of it with one hand into the other, raising the sandbags up high only to lower them slowly to the ground again. Soon his arms felt like spaghetti and his fingers were numb.
“Easy?” Trail jested.

Dravite didn't say anything.
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[Dravite]

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The sweat on his brow traced the fine, wheat coloured hairs and drew a path down the frame of his face and along his jaw to fall away from the blunt point of his chin. Dravite pulled on the rope, raising the sandbags again, even as the muscles in his arms begged him to stop. At one point he slipped and the rope ran through his hands until he was able to stop it, leaving the skin red and raw. He already had blisters from the use of his weapons, what was a little rope-burn on top of that?

Trail had been quiet for some time, seemingly mulling something over in his own thoughts as he had failed to bout out orders like he usually did. Dravite stopped what he was doing and stared at the man while he lowered the sandbags to the ground. When Trail didn’t notice, Dravite gave a small, sharp whistle to catch his eye like he might one of his dogs. “Done for the morning?” He asked.
Trail smiled. “That should do for now, would you like to cover some basic stances with the crow’s beak again?”
“Sure, I have time,” the horse lord admitted and helped Trail clean up before they were both back on their horses and galloping towards the training grounds.

As they rode, Dravite spotted a stump up ahead and directed his mount around it. Then, satisfied that the way ahead was clear, he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, encouraging the thickset stallion to charge on ahead.

Both men picked up their weapons and walked towards each other, Trail holding his Bec de Corbin as if it were an extension of his arm, while Dravite struggled, especially after all of the heavy lifting he had been doing. When it came to clashes Dravite was thrown back as his weapon bounced away behind him with the force of the impact, causing his whole body to turn as the heavy, steel beak went to ground. Trail was relentless and came at him again, Dravite only just managing to raise his weapon high enough to brush his teacher’s swipe aside.
“Lift!” Trail scolded, “Your opponent seeks your death before you offer him his; quick, well-planned, effective strikes. Come on, you can do it!”

Dravite grit his teeth, turned his body and lifted the Bec de Corbin to swing it up over his head. Trail was only just able to roll out of the way when the weapon came down, burying the end in the dry earth where the man had ticks ago being standing. Trail lay on his side, staring back at the young horse lord, surprise registered on his features. Dravite stood panting for a moment before he went to his knee, closing his hand over the blunt end of his weapon to sit his head there and rest.
“That’s more like it,” Trail smiled.
Dravite laughed breathlessly and got to his feet. “One day I’ll wield this thing as it was intended, but right now I feel like and dehydrated sapling in the summer; a strong wind could knock me off my feet.”
Trail smirked, “you know I think I chose well when I picked you to be my little project.”
“Project?”
Trail nodded, “Don’t worry, there will come a day when you find someone worth passing your skills onto and you’ll know exactly what I mean.”
Dravite moved, offering his hand to Trail to help the man to his feet, “I know what you mean.”
Trail took the offered hand and pulled himself up, using Dravite as a counter weight. “I have a favour to ask, something I was speaking to your wife about this morning.”
“Oh?”
Trail hummed thoughtfully, pausing to gather the right words, “Perhaps it would sound better coming from her.”
“You can’t peak my interest and then tell me to wait to find out,” Dravite hissed in jest.
Trail brushed himself off and leaned into his weapon which was firmly planted against the earth. “I don’t know if I’ve told you about my daughter Pearl,” he started, “my pride and joy.”
“No,” Dravite admitted, “you don’t often speak about life outside of The Watch.”
“She was married a few years ago but he passed before the birth of their son.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dravite offered and picked up his weapon, holding it across the top of his shoulders.
“She needs a protector, Dravite. I’m not going to live forever, why do you think I’m passing on my knowledge to you?”
Dravite stared at the man, was he proposing something? “Of course I wouldn’t mind looking out for your family once you pass but what about your pavilion?”
Trail smiled. “That’s not what I’m asking,” he admitted.
“That’s what I feared,” Dravite gave a half-hearted laugh and sighed, “Are you suggesting some kind of marriage?”
Trail nodded, “I am.”
“Can I meet her?”
“No.”
“So a blind, arranged binding?”
“Before the gods,” Trail added.
“Before the… “ Dravite swung his weapon down and rubbed his face. “I’ll talk to Belkaia.”
Trail smiled, it seemed he had already had that conversation with the man’s wife, “thank you.”

As they walked back to their horses Dravite piped up, “How old is she?”
Trail lifted his leather clad foot to boot the man across the backside playfully, “Never you mind.”
Dravite laughed, “Was worth a shot.”

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[Pearl]

Pearl stood next to Knox, brushing her Strider using long even strokes. Her hair was braided in many strands with each one tucked in around the other, one wrapped in memory of her dead husband. Garrison played in the dirt not too far from where she stood with Knox.

Trail, her father, smelled of horse hair and sweat. He got down from his mare as he rode into camp and set his weapon against the tent; the Bec de Corbin, something their family, or rather, his father, had been famous for crafting and wielding. The tall man picked up his grandson, Garrison, and carried the boy over to his mother. His burly digits went through the boy’s hair lightly, combing it back from his face. “He needs a haircut,” Trail told his daughter before leaning in to peck her cheek.

Knox whinnied his greeting to Trail as he approached, but he leaned in against Pearl's touch at his shoulder as she continued to brush. "The both of you need to bathe. I can smell you from here," Pearl smiled at the kiss her father set to her cheek.

Trail sat his hand down on the animal’s rump and gave him an affectionate pat. “It’s good to see you too,” the man smiled before turning his attention on his daughter once more, “I’ve found him, Pearl.”

Pearl stopped brushing Knox and threw the brush onto a blanket nearby. She reached out and took Garrison from her father's arms and sat him upon Knox's back, holding him in place with one hand and clicking at Knox to take a few slow steps at her side, keeping pace. "Found who?" the young woman asked, wishing she didn't already know the answer that.

“The man for you, my girl,” Trail beamed, this one wasn’t like the others.

"Why must you persist?" Pearl asked as she turned Knox with another clicking of her tongue; Garrison was quite happy to be upon the Strider.

“Because it is just you and I now, kid, and I can’t do my job out there in the sea justice, knowing that if something goes wrong, there will be no one left to care for you,” Trail scolded lightly; yes they had argued about all of this before, but he only wanted the best for his daughter.

Pearl turned slowly to look at her father; her retort was hot and ready on the edge of her tongue. She wanted to tell him that she would take care of herself and Garrison if anything should happen to him. But she couldn't put the words to voice, not when she saw the look on his face. "Tell me of him?" She said instead.

Trails’ eyes lit up at that, this was the first time Pearl had not stormed away from him for suggesting such things. “He’s young, perhaps a little older than you, not too tall, light of hair, healthy… He looks healthy,” Trail explained as if he were surprised by his own observation of the man, “He is building his own pavilion, and is new to The Watch, but already I can tell he will be a hard worker.”

Knox snorted. Pearl rubbed a hand over the Strider's shoulder. My sentiments exactly, she thought. It was so hard to think of loving another. "What's wrong with him? Why does he not already have a wife and children?"

Trail paused, no longer following alongside the horse. He waited until he had Pearl’s attention before breaking the news. “He has a wife, a little younger than you, with a son a year older than Garrison.”

Pearl stopped leading the Strider around. Nostrils flaring, Knox snorted again in agitation. Pearl removed Garrison from Knox's back; kissing the toddler's head she sat him on the ground. "Go get Knox something to eat, aye?" he told her son and nudged the young one along before she leveled her gaze upon her father. "You would have me be a second wife then?"

“You know that’s not how it works,” Trail sighed, “He will care for you just as well as he does for the first.”

"And she?" Pearl asked; Nexus, her late husband, heavy on her mind as comparisons began to be made whether she wanted to make them or not.

“Belkaia seems more than happy to have someone else around. When I spoke to her this morning I got the feeling she was lonely,” Trail admitted.

Pearl blinked several times, "so this is not something you've simply stumbled upon. You've talked to him, and to her."

“But it is, believe me there was no planning; this is Lhex at work,” Trail smiled, “Fate has seen that our paths were aligned and I seek to unite them.”

"Exactly how far has this conversation gone?" She asked before releasing a sigh at the mention of the god Lhex.

“He agreed to a binding if his wife was in favour. He has gone home to speak with her," Trail looked a little guilty; he really should involve his daughter in these decisions but after so long... Well he wasn't getting any younger and neither was she.

"And you ensured that prior to approaching the subject with him, aye?" The woman nodded as she talked. She knew her father, Knew he didn't gamble, and if he was speaking of this now, he had all the right pieces in all the right places. "When you spoke to her before you talked with him?"

“I only mentioned it,” he tried to make it seem as if he had done less than Pearl imagined, “Your guess is as good as mine, but I am hopeful.”

"When do I get to meet him?" Pearl asked, still trying to convince herself she was in control of this situation.

"When the two of you are bound," Trail replied quickly, not giving his daughter time to respond before he picked up his weapon and explained that he needed to go wash.

Pearl watched her father go, a hand on either hip as she had been prepared to voice her opinion. It wasn't supposed to happen this way, she thought. Perhaps it was better that it had happened this way. She certainly wasn't finding anyone doing it her way. Nexus was too often on her mind. She touched the wrap in her hair and whispered to the ghostly memory of her lover passed. "We're getting bound." Her father's intentions were never to harm her. She knew this. She knew he wanted nothing but the best for her. If this was his wish, if this was what he needed, so that he would be able to fulfill his responsibility to The Watch and his own conscience, then she would not deny his wish.

Knox nudged at her shoulder with his nose, urging her to turn to him, which she did; both arms went around the Strider's neck as she stepped closer to his shoulder. Knox's raised his leg as if he meant to hug the girl in return. She remained like that with him until Garrison babbled “Momma! Momma!" and came around the corner holding up a handful of straw.
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[Dravite]

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Belkaia was sitting by the fire smiling about something when Dravite returned to camp. The man sat down with his weapons and took a rag to start cleaning them. "You stink," Belkaia laughed; her voice a song.
Dravite smiled, "I worked hard today and Cree got something in his hoof, so I had to walk home."
The young woman looked past her husband to the horse, "Is he all right?"

Dravite put his weapons down and got up to tend to the horse. He leaned against the animal's front right shoulder and lifted his hoof to pick out all of the muck that was in there. He used piece of a stick to scratch some of the dried dirt out but wasn't able to find anything. He repeated the process on each of the animal's hooves, struggling with one of the back feet that Cree kept stealing away from his hands. "It must be this one," Dravite pointed out before disappearing into his tent to get the jar of honey; nature's healing gold.

When he was finally able to pick the hoof clean he found a small cut that looked relatively fresh. He packed some honey into the small nick before letting the horse put his foot down.
"What's the honey for?" Belkaia asked.
"The woman at the marketplace who sold it to me said honey has healing properties.
"Like a medicine?"
"She seems to think so."
"Does it work?"
"It worked for the bite marks on my arm last season."
"Good," Belkaia nodded.

The two of them were silent for a time and Dravite went back to his cleaning. Cree ducked his head to rip up some grass and stood chewing it, smacking flies away from his hide with a flick of his tail. Dravite sat thinking about what Trail had spoken to him about and was trying to dream up the best way to approach the subject when Belkaia did it for him.
"So... What do you think of your teacher's idea?"
"The binding?"
"So he did tell you?" Belkaia asked.
"Aye, he told me."
"Well?"
"We've never met her," Dravite shrugged.
"So, you hardly spoke to me before we got married and look how we turned out?"
Dravite looked across at Belkaia who smiled back at him. "I talked to you," he protested.
"No you didn't, you were so in love with Fara that you didn’t even notice any of the other girls."
The man chuckled, "but how could I not notice you? You're so beautiful," he admitted, taking advantage of the situation and his chance to praise the woman.
"Lair," Belkaia retorted in jest.

Dravite only smiled.
"Please marry her... I need another girl around here to keep me company... I've started talking to my Strider."
Dravite stared at his wife, "I talk to Cree all the time. Why don't you go make some friends? I like what we have here, besides, she already has a son, what if he doesn't get along with Kyanite?"
"What if he does," Belkaia said softly.
"What if there is someone else I already fancy making my wife..."
"Arandia?" Belkaia gushed hopefully.
"No... Someone else."
"You would need me to like her, and I'd prefer Trail's daughter."
"Because she has a son?"
Belkaia nodded, "that helps."
Dravite rubbed the back of his neck, "I will talk to Trail then..."
"Good," Belkaia clapped her hands and disappeared into the tent.

Dravite sat outside in the evening sun until that too abandoned him. He had a lot to think about it seemed. The day had begun with such promise; how did this happen? He asked himself. Still, he felt honoured that Trail thought him worthy of marrying his only daughter, and if they were going to survive the winter, an extra set of hands would be greatly appreciated.

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[Naiya]

Here's what the Fox says

Name:Dravite
XP Award:

• Socilaisation: 5
• Intimidation: 1
• Persuasion: 1
• Seduction: 1
• Riding, Horse: 4
• Rhetoric: 2
• Weapon, Spear: 2
• Mathematics: 1
• Horsemanship: 1
• Body Building: 4
• Weapon, Bec de Corbin: 3
• Intelligence: 1
• Running: 2
• Planning: 1
• Endurance: 3
• Weapon, Dagger: 1
• Philosophy: 1
• Medicine: 2
• Animal Husbandry: 1
• Cleaning: 1

Lore:

• Mounted Combat: Aiming a spear
• Trail: Doesn't like your excuses
• Weapon, Spear: Not too tight of a grip
• Mounted Combat: Plan your attacks
• Cree: Becoming accustomed to noise and fear
• Trail: Likes cruel jokes
• Bodybuilding: Weighted squats
• Bodybuilding: Hand over hand pull
• Bec Du Corbin: Basic stances
• Bec Du Corbin: Basic blocks and swings
• Pearl: Trail's daughter
• Pearl: In need of a protector
• Belkaia: Not always kind

Awards: Rope burns on his hands, bothersome for three to five days, gone in ten. Sore muscles in his legs and arms lasting two days.


Name:Pearl
XP Award:

• Animal husbandry 1
• Riding 1
• Childcare 1
• Rhetoric 1
• Observation 1
• Socialisation 1
• Grooming 1

Lore:

• Trail: A persistent man
• Dravite: The man for Pearl
• A father's wish

Notes: Beautiful little thread. It really connected some pieces of the puzzle for me! Let me know if you have questions or concerns.