Tales This is us

Discussion in 'The Chronicles' started by Rorric Bochanan, Mar 17, 2019 at 12:46 AM.

  1. Rorric Bochanan

    Member
    Rorric Bochanan Count of Jorunnr

    Joined:
    Friday
    Messages:
    3
    Location:
    Freyborg
    Character Biography:
    Bio
    [​IMG]

    The southern winds brought the warm air to the hill top city of Freyborg from the Aberresai Savannah over the Cairou River making the sea of long grass flow and ripple. Lord Rorric stood stoically upon the stone landing of the great hall known as Aodhbrand. He was simply dressed, brown trousers, high leather officer boots and a green tunic the bore the crest of house Bochanan, the white horse and half moon, across the chest. He let the warm morning spring air bristle through his grey hair and well groomed beard. He could smell the blooming of gardens and wild flowers. Water run off from the snow cap mountains could be seen from the far distance, like impromptu waterfalls crashing down the rocky cliffs. He drew a long breath in, taking all of spring in with it before exhaling. In his eyes, Freyborg and the rest Jorunnr was most beautiful and captivating during the first days of the season change. Not saying the county was not beautiful all year long. This was just the time the Count enjoyed the most.

    From the great hall he could see and hear the horses taking their morning frolic through the long grass and vast open fields. Rorric smiled, he loved the sight of horses, for they were the main lifespring of House Bochanan. Horse lords they were, masters of the equine trade in the entire kingdom and Cintria and arguably all of Arethil. Jorunnr was well known for their horsemen and revered for their Calvary. A reputation jealously guarded by Lord Rorric and his people that pride themselves upon it.

    Behind him was the large double wooded door that led into the great hall that his family and his ancestors have called home for many generations. Many of said he was a lucky man, his wife was a beauty and the real gem of the county. Rorric would not disagree, with out her strength and devotion he doubted he would of held these lands together. Gwendoyln's love and inexhaustible support has been publicly credited by Rorric himself for the success of house Bochanan and the county of Jorunnr. There were not enough words nor enough time in life for him to express his gratitude towards her. She has birthed him children to continue his bloodline. She had govern side by side with him through thick and thin that this world could bare and the house still stands. The lands prosper.

    Yes, he was a lucky man but family is not with out rough patches. Not with out flaws. They were human after all and no one was perfect. Many would say that Rorric was warrior, a true leader, honorable and highly respected. His children some days may say he was a monster, pig headed and stubborn or even cruel. That was family, the real story and with out, he had nothing. Rorric kept his glacier blue hues focused on the horses off in the distance, prolonging the peace and quiet before day's work began.
     
    Gwendolyn Bochanan likes this.
  2. Gwendolyn Bochanan

    Member
    Gwendolyn Bochanan Lady Bochanan, Mother

    Joined:
    Friday
    Messages:
    1
    Character Biography:
    Bio
    It was days like these that Gwendolyn knew she needed to pray to the Gods for thanks. A blessed woman, she was. As she walked down the halls of the Estate, a bright beautiful smile couldn’t help but stay on her face. These were the halls she built her family. Her husband, her two children. They were nearly grown but they would always be her babies in her eyes.

    As she meandered through the building, she made small talk with the servants. To discuss how they were, their families and so forth before she emerged outside to a warm breeze. She took a deep breath as she looked about town of Freyborg. In the distance, she could see the horses frolicking.

    Horses were their mandate. Their steeds were known all across Cintria and perhaps Arethil at large. Beautiful, majestic, strong, and dependable. Arguably, in Gwen’s eyes, the best horses there was in the world. No one could tell her otherwise, that’s for sure. She saw Rorric Bochanan standing and seemingly taking in the view of Freyborg and Cintria. Perhaps, enjoying the beautiful spring scent that had descended upon the town. Gwendolyn had been as far west as Elbion but she knew her in the deepest of her heart there was no place like this.

    She walked behind Rorric as she placed one arm around his shoulder and her other hand rested on his arm with a gentle squeeze. “Good morning, my love,” she said with a regal yet warm tone as she let her head rest slightly on his shoulder. "Did you sleep well?"

    Rorric was her rock, the love of her life, and her best friend. There was no one else in this world who could have built Jorunnr county as well as he. No warrior as fierce. No man as handsome. No, she was blessed by the Gods with her marriage. She was a happy woman and so she made sure to keep her man happy.

    She couldn’t help but wonder where the children were off too. Yes, perhaps one was nearing his 20’s. And the other, still a teen but also getting close to 20. She would always see them as small children that ran through their home, played, and got into all sorts of mischief. A large smile as she remembered when they were younger, how small they used to be. Some nights it was hard for Gwen to accept they were adults now.

    But, she did. They were grown, beautiful, and handsome. Perhaps they were still in bed or down with the horses.
     
    Rorric Bochanan likes this.
  3. Gunnr Bochanan

    Member
    Gunnr Bochanan Capricious Horses

    Joined:
    Monday
    Messages:
    1
    Character Biography:
    Bio
    “Oh… oh bother.” Gunnr reached too late for the stick of charcoal and its’ reconnoitre with gravity. “No!”

    Grabbing uselessly at the roof tiles, Gunnr lunged for his charcoal, while clutching his leather roll with sewn-in vellum parchments, a small wooden box precariously open on his knee.

    “No, no, not on… oh bevels!” Rolling to his stomach on Aodhbrand’s roof, Gunnr caught the small wooden box in his hand, knee shoved over the leather book. His boots dug into the shingles, other hand scrambling for a hold.

    The charcoal… it was inches away. If only he could grab it. No, no if! Gunnr Bochanan did not exist on if’s! Not when his life! Yes! Life! was on the line!

    Far be it for him to wreck his father’s mood by having a particularly soft charcoal stick land on Rorrick Bochanan’s silver hair! Yes, perhaps the more pertinent issue was his precarious position on the roof of the Hall… or perhaps that was the issue his mother Gwendolyn Bochanan would most concentrate on. Again.

    Yet, the roof of Aodhbrand was Gunnr’s safe space. None came upon it, none knew his way of climbing between the rafters, nor did they see how he accomplished such feats. Up on the roof, there was no war, no monstrous expectations from his father. There was nothing but a beautiful scenery and inspiration with which to draw.

    Or perhaps that was draw his last breath.

    “Stable hay!” The charcoal came loose of its spot on the shingle and rolled ever so delightfully onto his mother’s frock. And seconds later, who should come tumbling to the edge of the roof but the future Count Bochanan, Gunnr.

    “Nobody panic! Everything is under control!” Shoving his wooden box and leather roll into his large tunic pocket, Gunnr hung off the edge of the roof by one hand, feet dangling in the air. “Good morning, mother! Excellent sunrise, father!”

    Swinging to the side of the grand hall, Gunnr clung to the wood, and hop, skidded his way down to the ground with a flourished bow. Little did he know his cheek was covered in black smudges from his lost charcoal.

    “Ah! There it is! I will be going now!” Gunnr attempted to dive for his artist charcoal, halted only by the inevitable.

    His parents.
     

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