[Venora] Help Me Help Her

The seven Duchies of Central Rynmere and their respective baronies, cities, towns, villages, and landmarks each overseen by a Duke of one of the seven noble families and ultimately controlled by the King of Rynmere.

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[Venora] Help Me Help Her

Postby Charlie Warrick » Tue Dec 12, 2017 10:09 pm

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18th Break
8th Zi'da 717


Charlie had left Darcyanna in a daze. She'd wanted to accompany the poor girl back to Andaris, but she was still expected to finish work here, and the Venoran had been insistent on going back that trial. Something about a dog, or a boy who would be worried at her absence. But there was nothing she could say that would convince Darcy to stay with Charlie, and she'd had to leave the girl, even though it twisted at every protective instinct she had.

How could her family, her friends, have let Darcyanna reach this state? Where she was desperate, and every breath pained her? Even Charlie, who had only just met the woman, knew that there was something seriously wrong. She was too thin, her eyes too sunken - it was like an alarm bell for any that looked at her. And no one had presumed to do anything?

Charlie walked back to where she had tethered Alana, pondering, but soon that grief for Darcyanna turned into a rage. She didn't even have the strength to see her brother, who stood in an estate not too far from here - a large castle that overlooked the town of Bellesoir. Alana whinnied as Charlie approached her in the stables, her hands tangling through her mane, murmuring quiet nonsense words to greet her horse. Alana nuzzled Charlie's side, but Charlie barely noticed - she was too busy staring at the imposing estate of Notrerevé.

She made her decision.

Swiftly, Charlie placed her foot in the stirrup, and swung her leg over Alana's back, setting comfortably into the saddle, well worn from travel. Picking up the reins, she dug her heels into Alana's flanks, and the mare took off at a brisk trot. Charlie's eyes were fixed ahead on the estate, and only light directions of the reins were required to keep Alana on track. Others looked on at her armour, which she still wore, her silver wing pinned proudly to the breast, but Charlie only looked ahead. She had business to attend to.

Once out of town, Charlie broke into a canter, urging Alana on, eager to reach the estate. No words went through her mind, only Darcyanna's face and pained eyes. She had to do something. Perhaps she wouldn't be able to help, but it seemed as if her brother didn't even know. He should. Oliver Venora, the proud boy she had met twelve arcs ago, would not let his sister be in pain. Oli, as Darcy called him. Oli, as he had allowed Charlie to call him.

Charlie cantered up the path towards the house, and already there was a footman waiting at the door. He must have seen her approach. Dismouting swiftly, Charlie handed the reins to a waiting stableboy, looking shocked at her sudden arrival. Determinedly, she marched up to the footman, and before he could speak, introduced herself.

"Charlie Warrick, Sergeant," she said, straightbacked, showing off her silver wing. "I do not have an appointment, nor have I written a letter, but I need to see Oliver Venora. Immediately."

"My Lady," blustered the footman, "this is highly irregular--"

"It's urgent news about his sister." The blood drained from the footman's face, and he quickly buried whatever retort he had.

"Very well. You'd best come inside." The footman led Charlie into the entrance hall, down into a side room filled with plush armchairs and art. It was opulent and beautiful, but Charlie paid it no mind. She simply stared at the footman expectedly. "I will fetch my Lord. We'll have some wine brought to you while you wait. I will be right back, my Lady." With that, the footman disappeared back into the estate, and Charlie waited, anxiously - picking at the skin of her thumb, a childhood habit she had never been able to kick.
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[Venora] Help Me Help Her

Postby Oliver Venora » Wed Dec 13, 2017 3:07 am

Oliver Sebastian Venora

The crackling of the fire acted as ambient noise, gently lilting the exhausted noble towards dreaded sleep. Before him sat documents, plans for the charity gala he intended to host. Various names of chefs and businesses sat there, glaring back at his tired eyes with their daunting boldness. Through some, scratches. Around others, circles. In the margins on the right of the page, scribbles about this dish or that expense. He had been tirelessly planning since his fateful meeting with his younger sister's new lover, throwing himself into the event ahead rather than face his emotional turmoil.

Again. Lord Venora blushed furiously in guilt, even though he was alone. His reaction to Caius' words were unexpected, even to himself, and he regretted assaulting the man. Still, Caius did not strike him back, at least not physically. Instead, he'd struck the blow where it hurt Oliver the most... In his proud sense of duty over protecting Darcyanna. Which he'd failed to do.

Eyes swimming in pale pink and rimmed with tears snapped to the door as he heard rapid footfalls approaching. Lennard had been manning the door, and Oliver had been around the seasoned guard long enough to know his heavy footfalls and distinct rhythm, considering Lennard's limp earned from taking an arrow in the knee before his guardsman days. Before the knock came, Oliver quickly brushed aside the painful shards of guilt that he felt, rubbing the tears from his eyes and forcing himself to calm them to a dark black. One rap, two and a third, and Oliver sighed. Lennard's hand was heavy, and the sound resonated around the small office his father often kept.

"Yes, Lennard?" Came the Lord's answer, and the heavy mahogany door inched opened. In popped the head of Lennard, blonde hair graying in his growing age. Oliver's eyebrows raised at the look of concern on the man's face, and he was rising from the chair even as Lennard spoke.

"A Sargeant Warrick here to see you, my Lord. Said it's urgent." Lennard shrugged, holding the door open as Oliver made his way around the rich desk. Not bothering to don his suit jacket, the Lord Venora still struck a dashing figure, even as disheveled from sleeplessness as he was. He strode by Lennard, patting the man's shoulder affectionately, before making his way towards the rumpus room. Lennard need not even tell him where she was, as it was often the customary spot for entertaining guests. Though, from Lennard's words and demeanor, it would likely not be entertaining.

As he swept into the room, the scent of burning wood and lilacs followed him, creating an elegant and woodsy atmosphere around him. Dressed in black dress slacks, polished shoes and a white button up shirt, open at the top with the sleeves rolled up to reveal hairy forearms, Oliver Venora looked every bit the consummate Venora he had twelve arcs ago, albeit older and more distinguished. Upon seeing Charlie, he smiled tiredly, assuming joviality to be contrary to her visit.

"My lady Warrick, welcome to Notrerevé. Lennard has informed me that you come bearing urgent news... From his tone and demeanor, I will assume the news is not of pending nuptials or to inform me that I am to be made King of Rynmere," came the sardonic greeting, He was relieved to see Charlie, especially all grown up, but he could not help but shake the feeling that the news she bore was going to be bad. After all, his meeting with Caius had gone so smoothly...

Immediately spying a bottle of wine, he walked over and pulled the cork from it. Mixing with the scents of his cologne, the sweet smell of currants and chocolate filled the room. The dry red was swirled in the dark bottle, before he grabbed two glasses. Turning back to Charlie, he offered a sad smile.

"I seem to recall you not liking wine, my Lady. Has that changed in the ten arcs it has been since we have last spoken about it?" The question carried a hint of amusement, as much as the soul-suffering Venora could muster. Upon her refusal, he poured himself a glass and swirled it, sniffing at it with a nod. The first sip passed his lips, and the glass was set down. Instead, long fingers went to his temples to try and massage out the growing headache building there.

"My apologies, my Lady. I have not yet seen my bed for the evening. In two trials." He added the last bit with a sigh, leaning back on the overstuffed arm of a chair. "What are your tidings?"

He knew they were going to ruin his trial.
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[Venora] Help Me Help Her

Postby Charlie Warrick » Wed Dec 20, 2017 5:58 am

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Now that she was here, Charlie couldn't help but think that this was a terrible idea. Not only had she made a decision that threatened to betray the trust of a scared, broken girl, Charlie had ridden without an appointment into the estate of a Venora. A Venora she had known as a child, yes, but to presume to involve herself in a family's business when she was just an outsider? She shouldn't be here.

Charlie had just made the decision to leave when the door swung open, and Oliver Venora stepped in. Two things happened in that moment. First, seeing the tired exhausted man before her, she knew she could not leave Darcyanna to fend for herself. Second, she realised that time had treated Oliver very, very well. Even with the exhausted smirk on his lips, and the dark colours beneath his eyes, Oliver Venora had grown into himself, with wavy dark hair and a beard that made Charlie want to blush and look down. But no. She was here for Darcyanna.

Charlie returned his tired smile with one of her own, her hands unclasping from in front of her and dropping to her sides. At odds with the black leather armour, she curtsied slightly, noble lessons hard to unlearn even after these arcs in the military. Charlie could not help the smile that rose to her face at his words. "Unfortunately, my lord Venora," she said, her words warm despite the reason she was here, "I bear no such tidings."

She was tempted to elaborate, but Oliver went for the bottle of red wine that sat on the table, two glasses adjourning. She was about to protest, but she found with a smile that he remembered her words from arcs ago. "You remembered," she said softly, smiling a little. Something about the tired man before her made her want to be bold. "Do you remember, then, that I told you to call me Charlie? That, too, has not changed, my lord Venora."

Oliver was exhausted. Again, doubt at her arrival nagged at her, biting her lip. "Perhaps you should sit down," she suggested lightly, but hoped he would listen. The way he sagged against the chair, Charlie worried he would keel over at any moment. Taking her own advice, Charlie sat in one of the armchairs, running a hand over her face in exhaustion. How did she begin to phrase this?

"My lord Venora," she began, speaking slowly, and then winced. "Oliver," she corrected herself, sending a wry smile towards the man before her. "I'm very sorry I've come here unannounced, with no warning. Believe me, I would not have done so if I didn't think this was urgent." Charlie looked down at her thumb, where already the cuticles around her nail were picked cracking and dry. "I'm sure you're aware, but my regiment has been stationed here for a few trials, to pick up a shipment to Andaris. I was walking around the street earlier..."

Charlie trailed off. This ... this wouldn't do. She was making excuses for herself. She was gilding her words too much, trying to soften the blow. Honesty, that was what she had always prided herself on. Charlie steeled herself, taking a deep breath, and looking up into Oliver's deep eyes. "It's your sister. I met her today, and Oliver... she's addicted. To what, I do not know, but I worry that the addiction is only the beginning of the demons that haunt her. Oliver... she needs our help."

Charlie sat, rigid and evenly staring into his eyes, waiting to see how he would respond.
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[Venora] Help Me Help Her

Postby Oliver Venora » Sat Dec 23, 2017 5:01 pm

Oliver Sebastian Venora

The Fates-be-damned son-of-a-fekkin' bitch fek. The line of swear burst through his head, causing a slight blush to rush to his cheeks. He knew the Lady Warrick before him could not read his mind, but the words echoed so loudly in there that he was sure they must've come out ears for the whole of the world to hear. Keeping an even keel, though, the only distinction that Charlie got that he heard her was that his eyes immediately changed to a shade of indigo, nearly as black as his normal iris colour. He sat that way for quite a few trills, leading Charlie to believe he hadn't heard her. Finally though, he spoke.

"I know," came the response, a tone of defeat and embarrassment bolstering the words. Oliver's eyes finally met Charlie's, and she could see the sadness in them. Of course he'd known. Caius had told him merely trials before, and it was the only thing he could think about since. In fact, he'd slept so little for fear of seeing his sister in such a way in his dreams. He remembered her first steps and her first words. He was there the first time she cried. He held her and changed her and cared for her while her parents were rubbing elbows with the "right sorts".

And yet, she'd chosen to tell two strangers of her afflictions. It stung Oliver, to know that he was in such proximity to Darcy, and yet she had not stopped in to see him, or to ask for his help. Perhaps she was afraid of his reaction, but she shouldn't have been. No, he loved her, and would do whatever he needed to protect her. Yet she had not brought those burdens to his door, instead laying them at the feet of a woman and a man she'd hardly known. Upset melted into disappointment, which harden into anger. The indigo deepened.

"Yes, I know. A few trials ago, the young man Darcy is dating came upon my request to visit the estate. He-- He told me everything. Allow me to assure you that I am handling this meeting much better than the previous." He smiled tiredly, trying to find mirth in a situation mired in anguish. It was evident that Charlotte was reconsidering her position in being here, and Oliver leaned forward with an expression of gratitude.

"Charlie, thank you. I know that it must have been a tough decision to come to me, especially with Darcyanna's trust in mind. Please know that I will not divulge that you came to me," he murmured, softer than she'd ever heard him. He knew that Charlie's observations about Darcy's self destruction were correct, but he could only deal with one problem at a time.

The drugs would be simpler to correct, since all they had to do was ensure she didn't take any. But the caught behind the trauma, that remained at large, and from Oliver's recollection, a dead end. He gritted his teeth, trying to remember anything about Pythera that would suggest where she and her band of criminals may be hiding. Something then clicked with Oliver.

"Charlie...?" He started, tentatively eying her. "You were a Skyrider around the same time as Thera, right? So you would have at least been in the know when she deserted." He made the connection, staring at her. The indigo in his eyes roiled, swirling like a whirlpool to mix with black.

"Do you know where she might have gone? I need to find her." His voice was smooth velvet, but there was murder beneath.
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[Venora] Help Me Help Her

Postby Charlie Warrick » Fri Dec 29, 2017 10:59 pm

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Oliver's eyes darkened, and Charlie swallowed. She could not tell if it was the darkening colour of anger, but Charlie again began to doubt her decision in coming here. She was about to break the silence, apologise, beg his forgiveness, anything, but the words that came out of his mouth were even more devastating than anger.

They were hurt.

Charlie bit her lip, leaning in as Oliver did too, and she could not help beginning to pick at her fingernails again. "Oliver, I'm so sorry I've come, forced myself into the situation like this, but I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't just leave her. How could I walk away after she told me what ailed her? So I came... I'm truly sorry." She held his gaze, and attempted to crack a tired smile, hopefully reassuring. "But Oliver, trust me. She was here because she wanted to tell you. To see you. But this man you speak of, he had left suddenly, after she had revealed hidden truths to him. So Darcy wanted to come here and speak to you. But she found that when she arrived, she couldn't handle if you had walked out on her, too"

Charlie bit her bottom lip. "I tried to tell her that you wouldn't. I remembered, after all, the way you spoke to me arcs ago, how much warmth you had for her. But she... Darcy is so scared. So she left." Charlie heaved a sigh. "I'm so sorry. I just ... I thought you should know." She smiled softly at his words, shrugging off the thanks.

"Please don't thank me, Oliver. It was the right thing to do. That is all." She observed the man before her with a keen eye. Exhaustion sat in every part of him, his smile, his eyes, his shoulders. Even the clothes he wore, though rich in quality, were rumpled. It looked as though he had been wearing them for several trials. Charlie was about to suggest she leave, so that he could get some sleep, when Oliver spoke the words she had expected and dreaded from Darcyanna all evening.

There, in his eyes, there was anger now. The anger she had expected in the first place. For the first time, she broke his gaze, looking down at her hands. Her thumb was starting to bleed now. Silence stretched on as Charlie tried to think how she could respond, the guilt she had buried for so many arcs. But then she realised - her silence was even more damning.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice cracking. Charlie was unable to look at him. "Yes, I knew Pythera Venora." And how she knew her. The swing of the blade scarring Charlie's skin. She shuddered. "Oliver..." she took a deep breath, steeling herself, still unable to look into his eyes. "I was there. The day she fled. I couldn't... I couldn't stop her." Overcome, Charlie buried her face in her hands, her chest shuddering with guilt.

"I was only an Airman," she said softly, her voice muffled through her palms. "I didn't... I wasn't trained. Not well enough. And my Major at the time, he was an alcoholic, and not prepared. They only sent six of us. And we were too late. She escaped, into the woods, and some of us were badly hurt." Charlie was not one of them. She only had the superficial wound, not the gaping, bleeding hole Pythera had left in Andria's side. "She had help. The VII. She would be with them now, and we've been trying to find them..."

Charlie finally dropped her hands and looked into Oliver's eyes. Anguish was on her face, and tears in her eyes. "I'm so, so sorry," she whispered desperately. "I should have done better."
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[Venora] Help Me Help Her

Postby Oliver Venora » Sat Dec 30, 2017 4:44 pm

"Never apologise for someone else. You will only shame your integrity."

His eyes latched onto her, desperately searching for some hint that the words were untrue. He knew they weren't. He could feel their weight resonating in his very soul, echoing across the chambers of his being to settle in his heart, which sunk with sadness. Of course Charlie was there with Pythera. Tears rimmed his dark eyes, which still hadn't crossed the melancholy threshold of indigo into anger, but which hung heavy with sleeplessness and sadness. He observed her, cracking under the weight of her assumed failure, and he reached out a perfect hand to lay it on the bare flesh of her bicep.

"You cannot blame yourself, Charlo-- Charlie." He stopped himself before he used her full name, more on base instinct than anything. Standing in such proximity, he could see the lines of worry creased web-like across her forehead as she struggled to withhold the gush of tears that threatened to burst forth. With his hand there, Oliver's composure changed, becoming the soft and caring tenderness that he'd used when consoling Darcy as a girl.

"Pythera was always wicked. She was born that way, and we all knew it. But we loved her, and we chose not to see it. I suppose we still do love her, in the same way any family loves their monsters. If anyone is to blame, it is us. My parents knew what she was capable, and though I was blind to it, they could not have been. Not with what she was doing to Darcyanna..." He trailed off, his voice cracking. He took a deep breath to stabilize himself, before continuing.

"Charlie, you're a Sergeant now, and I would never wish to put you in any position to jeopardize that... But, you're sure you don't know where she would be?" His eyes begged her to search her memory for anything. "The VII are a rumour, a ghost story. Without a concrete place to look, I am unsure I'd ever find her. I need to, Charlie. I have to."

Oliver stopped, his hand dropping from Charlie's shoulder. Finally, he couldn't stem the flow of tears, and they flowed down his face. He sat back on the overstuffed arm of the chair, shoulders drooping, defeat evident in his posture. Never had Charlie seen him like that, in all the arcs they'd attended events together, and it was frightening. He did not sob, to his credit, but it did nothing to assuage the guilt he felt at Pythera's treatment of Darcyanna. As one of the large tears dropped down onto his shirt, Oliver sighed, looking back up to Charlie with red eyes.

"I let her down, and I need to make it right. I will make it right. I'm sorry for asking for your help, but I need it. If I can find Thera, and I can bring her to justice..." Oliver trailed off, the pleading in his voice evident.
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[Venora] Help Me Help Her

Postby Charlie Warrick » Thu Jan 04, 2018 12:33 am

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Charlie could not endure his stare as he looked searchingly into her eyes. Tears began to rim in his, and Charlie broke his gaze, looking down to her torn cuticles, biting her lip as she attempted to restrain her tears. Her own memories, her own wounds, they were nothing compared to what this family had experienced. Charlie had been hurt in her attempted escape - Pythera had hurt the Venoras for a lifetime.

Her breath shuddered as Oliver laid his hand upon her, warm and comforting. She looked up at him with tearful eyes. "But I do, Oliver," she whispered, shaking her head. "I do blame myself. She got too close to me, and she slashed my chest open." Shrugging her armour to the side, Oliver could see the beginning of a long and ugly scar at her collarbone, disappearing down towards her breast. "If I had done better, if I had been able to avoid the attack - if I had been stronger - she would not have got away." She drew a deep breath, looking at Oliver with pleading eyes. "It's my fault, that this has gone on so long for you and your family."

Oliver asked, and her heart clenched, as tears truly began to fall. He had taken her hand from her shoulder, and suddenly, she missed the soft warmth. Charlie reached out and placed a hand on his cheek, tears running over her fingers, mingling along her palm. It hurt - seeing Oliver like this, brought to such grief and despair. "I don't know where she is," Charlie whispered, her voice also cracking. "We've been searching for them for so long. We have only whispers... but so many of them turn out to be false..." Charlie trailed off. How could she tell him no? How could she leave this problem on his doorstep? She had brought him to tears, and to walk away... Her scar tingled at the memory of what Pythera could do.

All of a sudden, she knew. She knew she could not leave this broken family alone and to their fate. Charlie, for better or worse, could not walk away from Darcyanna, from Oliver. "I will help," she whispered, then cleared her throat. Her voice came out stronger now. With her hand still on Oliver's cheek, she looked at him with fiercely determined eyes. "Oliver Venora, I swear by the Seven to you, whatever I can do, whatever it may lead you, I will find Pythera and the VII and bring her to justice for what she has done to you and yours." Her hand reached out, clasped his other hand.

"Oli..." she murmured. "I will find her."
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[Venora] Help Me Help Her

Postby Oliver Venora » Thu Jan 04, 2018 8:07 pm

"For an eternity, her words found me."

Standing there, with her hand on his face, tears streaming down her cheeks, Oliver truly saw Charlotte Warrick. Not the sergeant, not the girl he met in her garden all those arcs ago, but the strong and tormented young woman she had become. The beginning of the scar, raised and white, offered him a brief pause as he considered the physical mark Pythera had left her that trial. Everywhere his youngest sister went, she left a swath of destruction behind her. She tormented and tortured, far after departing from their lives, and Oliver felt something climb in him, something he could not identify at first.

But then: it was guilt. All the pain and anguish Pythera had caused, and Oliver had never been a target. Not truly, not in any real sense of the word. He was never victimized by the strong girl, never had to look over his shoulder. He hadn't even thought about Pythera since her disappearance, but all at once, Charlotte, Caius, Darcy... Darcy. His heart lurched as his mind repeated her name, sending fire to his cheeks. Standing there, staring into Charlotte's true persona, Oliver lost himself to nausea and disgust. He wanted her found, he wanted her to answer for the pain she'd caused... He wanted Pythera to die.

And that horrified him. Tears rimmed his dark eyes, caught somewhere between indigo and storm grey, threatening to break the crest of his eyelids and stream down his face. His throat began to close, aching as he struggled to keep it open so that he could breathe. His nostrils flared, opening to supplement the lack of air intake from his closing throat, and he shuddered against Charlie's touch, a shiver running down the vertebrae in his back. He had never considered the prospect of wanting one of his siblings dead, but he was sure that given the chance, he would run Thera through with his sword, and watch the light flee from her eyes.

Bile rose in his threat, the unwelcome harbinger of getting sick. He clamped his throat shut, allowing the mental agony and revulsion to close it, the iron maw of the king crocodile. The rising liquid, sour and fiery, seared his chest, but was not followed by the contents of his stomach. Instead, he quelled the feeling, swallowing the anger and terror in a quick burst, followed by a gulp of air to wash it down. Staring into Charlie's eyes, the world might have stopped turning. He could feel her anguish, could feel her sorrow...

And he wanted to take that from her. His sister had caused it, in one form or the other, and Oliver felt it was his duty to save her. Or perhaps there was something more. Perhaps looking into her eyes, truly seeing her... It transformed him. Oliver began that trial as a man of Venora, graceful. But there, with her warm hand on his cheek and tears staining her own, Oliver became something else. There was no grace to him anymore, no duty... There was only warm, malleable clay, the beginning of a man shaped by the wretchedness that swirled around him like a whirlpool. Lifting his own arms, he placed them on Charlie's cheeks.

Soft thumbs arced out and wiped away the most recent stream of tears, wetting the digits with her salty tears. Holding her face there, framed by his powerful hands, something stirred inside Oliver. Slowly leaning in, he brought he face to hers, shark-black eyes melting into a pale pink, inches away from her. He held her there, and his breath smelled of dry wine, but only faintly. He stared at her, stared into her, and they shared something ethereal in that trill. And then he kissed her.

At first, it was tentative, shy and pressureless. But after the contact, he came back in again, pressing his lips harder into hers, holding her with both hands to his face. He could not explain what caused the decision, but it was made, and he would not withdraw from it. When she kissed him back, he knew he made the right choice. Standing there, they transcended the bodies they were in, and became something more. Borne from unfortunate circumstances, the apotheosis was made all the more sweet. That kiss sealed it, for Oliver. He was where he was supposed to be, with whom he was supposed to be with... From this point on, the battles would be fierce, but he was slowly building what they would need to combat the coming storm.
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[Venora] Help Me Help Her

Postby Zipper » Mon Jan 08, 2018 8:57 am

Overview : Just a suggestion: maybe Charlie can go on a telepathic skype chat with Pythera for 5 threads and then surrender to VII in a vain attempt to redeem her.

There is a very strong sense of continuity to the Rynmerian community (or at least the Darcy-Caius-Oliver-Charlie side of things that I seem to end up chancing upon grading here and there) and through that, a lot of earned pathos to it. The descriptions you both conjured were vivid, the paccing flowed smoothly, and the final sad-kiss felt really earned. Enjoy your points, peeps.


@Rey
Points : XP: 15/15
Loot/Injuries/Overstepping : Fame: +2 for concern snitching
Knowledge : Skill Knowledge
Knowledge:
Animal Husbandry: Your horse recognises you
Caretaking: Touch for comfort
Discipline: Forcing yourself to tell the truth
Mount (Horse): Mounting
Mount (Horse): Digging heels into flanks
Mount (Horse): Dismounting
Intimidation: Demanding a meeting
Politics: Knowing your nobility

@Casp
Points : XP: 15/15
Loot/Injuries/Overstepping : nope
Knowledge : Skill Knowledges:
Discipline: Keeping one's composure
Etiquette: Remembering someone's preferences
Etiquette: Offering a comfortable place to talk
Etiquette: Choosing titles for those with more than one
Politics: Receiving guests at your home
Politics: Using wine as a stalling tactic
Politics; Recognizing military status
Psychology: Sharing your concerns

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Zipper
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