Tarbie Hearding

Tarbie Hearding was born into the thick hedges and stone walls of Thornhege Manor’s demesne. From a young age, he learned to move gently, to read the livestock as if they spoke a language older than the family crest, and to sense storms before a cloud touched the earth. The manor was not just his home; it was his school. Tarbie found a peculiar peace among the animals, especially the sheep that wandered and bleated in a rhythm he could predict with the swinging of a lantern and the tick of a clock. The lords son, a cousin in all but name, became his first true companion in exploration. They chased sunset shadows through thorny glades, mapped every hollowed tree, and learned to identify the telltale signs of every season’s return. Those adventures felt like small rebellions against the rigidity of noble life. Tarbie, though, is not a prankster or a rogue; he is a guardian by instinct. The woods whispered to him—the trees spoke in a slow, patient language that urged him toward greater stewardship of the land. The Thornhedge estate, with its vast pastures and secret groves, offered Tarbie a public face and a private sanctuary. The lords son shared with Tarbie stories of old magics and hidden springs, and in turn Tarbie shared stories of the animals he tended and the way their lives intersected with the people who came and went in the manor’s halls. He learned to be generous, to share what little warmth and food he could spare, and to listen—truly listen—to the concerns of others, whether it was the lord’s concerns about a failing harvest or a shepherd’s worries about a stray calf. Yet as he grew, the routine of the manor—wake, flock, repair, repeat—began to feel constricting. Tarbie’s dreams stretched beyond the stone walls, beyond the hedges, toward the world that lay beyond the Thornhedge lands. He felt the pull of the wild and the need to understand it, not as a threat to order but as a companion to it. Druidic powers beckoned—an ancient, living magic connected to the soil, the trees, and the creatures who share Earth’s breath. Tarbie doesn’t seek glory. He seeks balance: to protect his homeland while exploring its edges, to learn how new ideas can nourish old wisdom, and to bring back stories and knowledge that might help Thornhege thrive in harmony with the land. He carries the weight of responsibility lightly and carries humor and warmth like a sturdy cloak, ready to face whatever horizon opens before him. Tarbie is the kind of friend who would stand between a frightened sheep and a storm, whispering calm into the wind, and perhaps, in time, save a forest that many have never learned to truly see.