Written By Aethan
May 13, 2021, 11:07 a.m.(6/19/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Cassima
Much could be said, but yet so little has to be. Spoken and unspoken, there are relatable experiences that can be measured in the flick of an eye and understood in silence....
An unexpected respite at the beach was had.
An unexpected respite at the beach was had.
Written By Evaristo
May 13, 2021, 9:13 a.m.(6/18/1015 AR)
I woke up yesterday, did the usual morning activities, and headed out to take care of some business. I realised when walking up the hill to city center that I felt like I did before the wounds. That I had recovered fully. I celebrated by doing a small performance right there on the street, cheering up people.
I decided it is time to work on that play I have wanted to do for a long time.
I decided it is time to work on that play I have wanted to do for a long time.
Written By Lianne
May 13, 2021, 1:17 a.m.(6/18/1015 AR)
All dreams end. Few are ever seen to fruition. I should have let this one die years ago. Instead, I let it take root, spread. There was enthusiasm, hope. And, today, I wrote a handful of letters to put a quick end to all that optimism and creativity.
How biting and bitter this grief left behind.
Maybe something else will grow there in time. I think I'll keep my ambitions a bit more modest for a while.
How biting and bitter this grief left behind.
Maybe something else will grow there in time. I think I'll keep my ambitions a bit more modest for a while.
Written By Medeia
May 13, 2021, 12:13 a.m.(6/18/1015 AR)
Another delightful feast held in the courtyard, another rousing contest of physical skill! My thanks to Lords Haakon, Ian, and Savio, Ladies Thea and Piccola, and Messeres Raven and Zakhar for competing and being the entertainment for the evening. All fought admirably, but of course only one could win! Congratulations to Lord Ian for his victory.
I've been feeling inspired lately and have several parties already planned! Something for everyone! I promise. What a wonderful summer it will be.
I've been feeling inspired lately and have several parties already planned! Something for everyone! I promise. What a wonderful summer it will be.
Written By Porter
May 12, 2021, 8:42 p.m.(6/17/1015 AR)
Some months ago, maybe a year ago? I took some smithing lessons with Dame Ida. They served me well! And I can now make a small number of odd things here and there. At one point, I spent several weeks creating a series of helmets! Some were more popular than others, I admit. I've heard that one of them may be sitting in the City Center now, without a home. If you're the person the helmet belonged to and misplaced it, I hope you are reunited!
But if the helmet has been tossed to the wayside in favor of a finer bit of armory, I hope that it finds a new home with some lucky soul who is helmetless!
Good luck to you, helmet.
But if the helmet has been tossed to the wayside in favor of a finer bit of armory, I hope that it finds a new home with some lucky soul who is helmetless!
Good luck to you, helmet.
Written By Kiera
May 12, 2021, 5:04 p.m.(6/17/1015 AR)
well scholar, i always consider myself a novice scholar in almost every respect, knowing well that though I have spend a great deal of time in study since arriving in arx what knowledge I have ammassed in my two year compared to what there is to know, amounts to not even a thimbleful so when a fellow scholar posed a question about some kind of symol and i knew nothing, this was like so many other questions posed and i took no notice. of the most valuable pieces of information, in my small store of knowledge is whom to go to for answersto questions. When the people who i consider experts confessed to being puzzled by something. I consider /that/ to be something of note. My eyes and ears are open.
Written By Valencia
May 12, 2021, 3:27 p.m.(6/17/1015 AR)
Trust.
Difficult to gain. Easy to break. Tough to repair once broken.
Without it, the world can be a lonely place. With it, the possibilities are open.
Held dear, it earns love and respect. In the wrong hands, it can have a devastating effect.
We say we desire it and value it greatly, and yet, do we?
~~~~~~~<~<~<@
Difficult to gain. Easy to break. Tough to repair once broken.
Without it, the world can be a lonely place. With it, the possibilities are open.
Held dear, it earns love and respect. In the wrong hands, it can have a devastating effect.
We say we desire it and value it greatly, and yet, do we?
~~~~~~~<~<~<@
Written By Piccola
May 12, 2021, 2:13 p.m.(6/17/1015 AR)
When I was eight or nine I used to know a family in a little village near Iriscal.
The family seemed as any other: father, mother and sons. They were small landowners and had an inn. I had heard, and therefore knew, that besides the sons we knew this woman had another son nobody had seen, who was spoken of in whispers as if he were a great disgrace for the mother. I remember that my father referred to this woman often as a martyr, who made great sacrifices for this son and put up with great sorrows. My mother refused to talk about her.
One day, I was sent to this family's inn on an errand for my father. I came upon the mother as she was shutting her door, dressed up to go out to socialize, with a hamper under her arm. On seeing me she hesitated then decided. She then told me to accompany her to a certain place, and that she would take delivery and give me the money for my errand upon our return. Having no reason not to trust that my status would protect me, we left the limits of the village.
We walked some ten minutes out of the village's sight into an orchard filled with garbage. In a copse there was a shack hidden, a sort of pig sty, about four feet high and windowless. The odor from there was atrocious. She opened the door to it and I could hear an animal-life howling. And inside this hovel was her son, a robust boy of 18, who couldn’t stand up and scraped along on his seat to the door as far as he was permitted by a chain linked to his waist and attached to the ring in the wall. He was covered with filth, and his eyes shone red, like those of a nocturnal animal.
His mother dumped the contents of her basket – a mixed mess of household leftovers – into a stone trough. She filled another trough with water, and we left. She returned back to the inn in silence, whereupon the mother gave me the sack of gold that I had been sent to fetch. I said nothing to my parents about what I had seen, so great an impression it had made on me, and so convinced was I that nobody would believe me. Nor when I later heard of the misery which had befallen that poor mother, did I interrupt to talk of the misery of the poor human wreck who had such a mother.
So it is, wise general, that I came to fear no fabled monster with such monstrosity lurking in every corner.
The family seemed as any other: father, mother and sons. They were small landowners and had an inn. I had heard, and therefore knew, that besides the sons we knew this woman had another son nobody had seen, who was spoken of in whispers as if he were a great disgrace for the mother. I remember that my father referred to this woman often as a martyr, who made great sacrifices for this son and put up with great sorrows. My mother refused to talk about her.
One day, I was sent to this family's inn on an errand for my father. I came upon the mother as she was shutting her door, dressed up to go out to socialize, with a hamper under her arm. On seeing me she hesitated then decided. She then told me to accompany her to a certain place, and that she would take delivery and give me the money for my errand upon our return. Having no reason not to trust that my status would protect me, we left the limits of the village.
We walked some ten minutes out of the village's sight into an orchard filled with garbage. In a copse there was a shack hidden, a sort of pig sty, about four feet high and windowless. The odor from there was atrocious. She opened the door to it and I could hear an animal-life howling. And inside this hovel was her son, a robust boy of 18, who couldn’t stand up and scraped along on his seat to the door as far as he was permitted by a chain linked to his waist and attached to the ring in the wall. He was covered with filth, and his eyes shone red, like those of a nocturnal animal.
His mother dumped the contents of her basket – a mixed mess of household leftovers – into a stone trough. She filled another trough with water, and we left. She returned back to the inn in silence, whereupon the mother gave me the sack of gold that I had been sent to fetch. I said nothing to my parents about what I had seen, so great an impression it had made on me, and so convinced was I that nobody would believe me. Nor when I later heard of the misery which had befallen that poor mother, did I interrupt to talk of the misery of the poor human wreck who had such a mother.
So it is, wise general, that I came to fear no fabled monster with such monstrosity lurking in every corner.
Written By Emberly
May 12, 2021, 7:54 a.m.(6/16/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Mikani
Helping Mikani with bringing blackwood to the market has allowed me to focus on helping Crovane.
I have been doing much work for Redrain and the Apothecary College and investing it back into the house.
I thank Lady Mikani for helping me when I have needed a friend to turn to.
sidenote : I am reaching out to those that know about Metals to teach me so I might invest back into the College...
Also.... A new topic has surfaced, I have become focued on
Farseers....
if such a people exist... perhaps there is hope for the future.
I have been doing much work for Redrain and the Apothecary College and investing it back into the house.
I thank Lady Mikani for helping me when I have needed a friend to turn to.
sidenote : I am reaching out to those that know about Metals to teach me so I might invest back into the College...
Also.... A new topic has surfaced, I have become focued on
Farseers....
if such a people exist... perhaps there is hope for the future.
Written By Silas
May 12, 2021, 3:55 a.m.(6/16/1015 AR)
I'll have more to say. I just need time.
Written By Silas
May 12, 2021, 3:01 a.m.(6/16/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Aiden
If tomorrow my life were finished,
With many fun things left to do,
It wouldn't matter at all,
Because, my love, I had you.
I loved you then,
And I love you still;
I adore you now,
And I always will.
Love, SW
With many fun things left to do,
It wouldn't matter at all,
Because, my love, I had you.
I loved you then,
And I love you still;
I adore you now,
And I always will.
Love, SW
Written By Viviana
May 11, 2021, 10:28 p.m.(6/15/1015 AR)
I certainly don't expect responses, no.
However - when everyone's searching for knowledge, it's way more fun to learn about the thoughts and feelings of others.
However - when everyone's searching for knowledge, it's way more fun to learn about the thoughts and feelings of others.
Written By Raimon
May 11, 2021, 10:13 p.m.(6/15/1015 AR)
A whispered poem on the eve of the re-appearance of Joscelin Arterius, the former guildmaster of the Crafters Guild:
A songbird's voice cuts cool night airs
Incisive, steady, sure.
The high notes: rise to greet the stars
The deep ones: Steady. Pure.
In quiet, earnest wonderment,
We hear The Song unfold.
In harmony, our Souls now sing
soft notes of burnished gold.
(( ooc ref: https://play.arxgame.org/comms/boards/2119/view/1176103 ))
(( ooc context: https://pastebin.com/UhHPMVMQ ))
A songbird's voice cuts cool night airs
Incisive, steady, sure.
The high notes: rise to greet the stars
The deep ones: Steady. Pure.
In quiet, earnest wonderment,
We hear The Song unfold.
In harmony, our Souls now sing
soft notes of burnished gold.
(( ooc ref: https://play.arxgame.org/comms/boards/2119/view/1176103 ))
(( ooc context: https://pastebin.com/UhHPMVMQ ))
Written By Raimon
May 11, 2021, 9:15 p.m.(6/15/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Cesare
The prayer - offering to the god Jayus on Cesare's behalf, after witnessing Cesare's performance at the Art Festival : https://pastebin.com/geAhgAy3
Written By Raimon
May 11, 2021, 8:17 p.m.(6/15/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Gael
(( ooc commentary: What happens when you juxtapose a day spent fencing on the proving grounds, with a cider & mead - fueled night at the 'Bee for Mabelle's Limerick contest? Some very strange things happen when you wake up the next day, my friends . . . some very strange things indeed! ))
"Before Gael hit my head with an Axe . . .
I really didn't -have- any knacks . . .
Yet -now- I can rhyme . . .
and -do-, all the time, . . .
Who -knows- why, but -that's- just the -facts- !"
- a suitably befuddled Prince Raimon **
** (( ooc note: But only after I spent half the +Event Google-ing: How-to-write-a-Limeri..., wait, does that have 1 m or 2? ))
"Before Gael hit my head with an Axe . . .
I really didn't -have- any knacks . . .
Yet -now- I can rhyme . . .
and -do-, all the time, . . .
Who -knows- why, but -that's- just the -facts- !"
- a suitably befuddled Prince Raimon **
** (( ooc note: But only after I spent half the +Event Google-ing: How-to-write-a-Limeri..., wait, does that have 1 m or 2? ))
Written By Rosalind
May 11, 2021, 7:17 p.m.(6/15/1015 AR)
Relationship Note on Bonnie
I met Duke Mal's sister today. And she's just as fantastic as he is, but with an entirely different story! Are all Shepherds this amazing?
Written By Malcolm
May 11, 2021, 7:06 p.m.(6/15/1015 AR)
Correct. If he's got a sailor's swagger and a thinning hairline - that's my courier.
Written By Volya
May 11, 2021, 2:58 p.m.(6/15/1015 AR)
Conversations in Existentialism
1: Whenever I meditate and let my mind drift, I feel less like a single being and more like...a reflection off everything's surface.
2: Well, you kind of are, aren't you? What is the self other than an illusion that helps your body navigate existence?
1: Whenever I meditate and let my mind drift, I feel less like a single being and more like...a reflection off everything's surface.
2: Well, you kind of are, aren't you? What is the self other than an illusion that helps your body navigate existence?
Written By Volya
May 11, 2021, 2:51 p.m.(6/15/1015 AR)
Conversations in Existentialism
1: If sharing my creations doesn't make me happy...then why do I feel so compelled to do it?
2: Because the motivation behind these acts of sharing, has never been fleeting happiness. It's to make the internal external. To see if your work can survive outside itself. It's bigger than joy. It's communicating in a language of your own making and seeing who else can connect to it.
1: If sharing my creations doesn't make me happy...then why do I feel so compelled to do it?
2: Because the motivation behind these acts of sharing, has never been fleeting happiness. It's to make the internal external. To see if your work can survive outside itself. It's bigger than joy. It's communicating in a language of your own making and seeing who else can connect to it.
Written By Vitalis
May 11, 2021, 2:05 p.m.(6/15/1015 AR)
I've studied symbols, glyphs, sigils, and other ways of communicating for the better part of a decade and I've never come across any symbol like the one drawn by Marquessa Igniseri and mentioned by Scholar Oswyn. What is it? It's so simple, how is it not present in the Great Archive. Well. I may know the answer to that, but... it has caught my fancy. If you know anything about it, I would very much like to speak with you.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.