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Written By Sameera

April 22, 2017, 9:10 p.m.(4/26/1006 AR)

Felt inspired to make signet rings today. People seem pleased. Also did several commissions and took on a couple more. Everyone seems good.

I have started thinking of plans to what I wish to do.

People are more tolerable.

Written By Selene

April 22, 2017, 8:45 p.m.(4/26/1006 AR)

Relationship Note on Aiden

Yes Aiden, you can call me friend. I call you friend too. And you're always welcome in my home and presence.

Written By Ford

April 22, 2017, 8:37 p.m.(4/26/1006 AR)

Relationship Note on Octavia

You were wrong. And that's okay. What happened would have happened no matter what you chose to do.

Her death is not on you. It's on the men who killed her.

I love you. Always.

Written By Sparte

April 22, 2017, 6:44 p.m.(4/26/1006 AR)

I lost control. I'm not going to make any excuses for how or why, it happened. I hurt those men far more than a friendly competition allows for. I was so eager for the fight.

Why? Why was I eager to fight them? To prove myself to Gloria, to test my ability? To learn something? I don't know my own mind.

Written By Merek

April 22, 2017, 6:37 p.m.(4/26/1006 AR)

Relationship Note on Silas

I'm not sure what happened with everything, but I'm glad that all turned out alright for you. I am hopeful that you will be able to do much with your new holdings. I hope you won't give up the craft.

Written By Merek

April 22, 2017, 6:34 p.m.(4/26/1006 AR)

Relationship Note on Reese

I am happy that Reese has found someone to marry. I'm quite glad for my friend, and hopeful that even though this is during the siege, it will be a wonderful time for her.

Written By Merek

April 22, 2017, 6:34 p.m.(4/26/1006 AR)

Relationship Note on Malena

My sister was hurt during a battle in the siege at the Velenosa district. This has me quite worried about her, although she is recovering well. Hopefully once all this is over she can have the shop she wants and this can all settle a bit, and life can get back to normal.

Written By Valery

April 22, 2017, 2:46 p.m.(4/26/1006 AR)

There was a woading today at the Stone Grove.
It was a nice thing, even if I didn't really took part on it.

Warrior marks are a bit of a waste in someone that cannot fight.

Written By Margot

April 22, 2017, 12:17 p.m.(4/26/1006 AR)

I am beginning to wonder if we should change the Darkwater Sigil to that of a rabbit as there was only one or two and now it seems they're everywhere!

Written By Aureth

April 22, 2017, 12:09 p.m.(4/26/1006 AR)

It is probably not a surprise to anyone that the Sentinel is not a god to whom I have much addressed myself in my life. Abstract justice is a seductive concept that even as a boy I believed practical reality was inclined to neglect. It's not that I don't appreciate the lure, to some degree. But here's the thing.

I wasn't born poor. I've never been poor. Myrinda Grayhope was the foremost seamstress and designer in the city. She had her detractors but she earned them by her tongue, not her work. Her work was unsurpassed. She dressed every High Lord and Lady. She was sponsored by Grand Duchess Esera, a woman whose taste and finesse were unquestionably unsurpassed. When Fortunato and I were little, she was still building to her final pinnacle, but even in those early days after she first escaped the mess that my father left her, well ... we weren't _poor_.

But I was a Boroughs scrapper, a brat. The privileged son of a family that most were wise enough not to cross. But not the _sheltered_ one. I watched lotus eaters die, I watched men beat each other in the street, I watched wealthy people use charity as a stopgap to make themselves feel better and then wander off back to their own luxuries without ever giving any of these people a thought. I saw other children who were my friends disappear to no one notice. It's not that any of this was especially traumatic for me. The point was, I saw.

So did the Sentinel.

I struggled with that more then than I do now. Resentment is an old friend of my heart, it's true, but I have a better, clearer understanding of what it means for a god to act. Of what it means for the gods to watch. And I am newly come to a very clear, up close, and personal understanding of what it feels like to watch cruelty, violence and injustice happen while you are powerless to intervene. For whatever reason. Perhaps because you're actually powerless, or perhaps because the consequences of action would be far worse.

I'm sitting now, waiting as a dent in my brand new armor is repaired, and thinking as I write, about spilled blood in the Cathedral, about dead children, and pain, and violence, and wanton malice for its own sake, and ... the Sentinel saw it all. Because the Sentinel sees everything.

The power of justice is in the hands of men. I feel, like I felt the rush of light through me last night, that the gift of justice is not only from the Sentinel to us, but the gift that we can grant _to_ the Sentinel by the work of our hands, our minds and our honor. Because I can think of no greater gift than the relief I felt when it was finally over.

This is my prayer to the Sentinel. Let the light of righteousness guide more of my choices. May I be more relief to your burden than weight added to it.

In other words, my prayer to the Silent Watcher is that I will not be painful to watch.

Written By Margot

April 22, 2017, 11:19 a.m.(4/25/1006 AR)

To the Future Duke of Tydehall -

If you would do me the favor of ceasing kicking my bladder, I would have more time available to be improving your future inheritance.

Your mother.

Written By Edward

April 22, 2017, 10:26 a.m.(4/25/1006 AR)

I have a gift. It is a precious gift that was given to me. I will nurture it. And covet it.

Written By Niamh

April 22, 2017, 9:39 a.m.(4/25/1006 AR)

I received a messenger recently from someone I have known for years. This bastion of worldly wisdom has, perhaps more often than she realizes, made me reflect on her words frequently over the years we have known one another. She asked me, in a way, how I felt about honor. I spent a while in the Archives reading about honor, thinking back to the things that Sir Marcel taught me in our time together, and on my own understanding.

Honor began as a reference not for one's character or moral code, but for own's holdings. A freeman's plot of land, a knight's manor and so on where their honor. To stake their honor upon something meant to risk all that they had, a wager against an outcome. It showed that the person in question held the outcome of something in such high regard, such worthiness, that they were willing to gamble all they had to see it through. To say "I stake my honor on it," is to pledge all one's wealth on that statement.

Now, centuries after the concept was born, we have morphed honor into something else. The Scholars tell me that language does that; it changes as the people that speak it change, and the only languages that don't evolve are those belonging to a people who no longer live. Now honor has become the measure of how well one's actions match their stated code of morality. Do their actions match their words?

The question posed to me was: Does your honor make you feel high and mighty, untouchable?

The implication was that honor was a concept of the lofty, and not one that held no value to those who work for a living as it were.

Here I find a flaw. Honor, whether in the original definition or the modern, applies to everyone. We all have those things we would risk everything for. Family, friends, loved ones, neighbors. We all have those lines we will not cross. Actions we will not take.

So does my honor make me feel high and mighty? Untouchable?

No. My honor makes me feel like myself. It's an assurance that I am, at the end of my day, still the person I want to be, and not someone that's become who someone else wants me to be. And I am grateful for this challenge. Thank you, Harpy, for keeping me true to myself.

Written By Merek

April 22, 2017, 1:09 a.m.(4/25/1006 AR)

I am hopeful that the siege will be finished in the upcoming battle. I worry about many friends, but I hold hope for them.

Written By Harper

April 22, 2017, 12:50 a.m.(4/25/1006 AR)

Relationship Note on Ford

Bruises dun last. Losin' temporary. Unless you die, I guess. But, yeah, I did get to play with Grit - that's 'er name and she's beautiful, so thanks for that Popinjay. I liked dancin' with rubicund.

But - why - why everyone I fight gotta smack me on m'fuckin ass? Th'shit smarts. Makes sittin' hard. Least I can stand sentry duty til all the bruises turn yellow.

(Scholar, quit laughin'.)

Written By Abbas

April 21, 2017, 10:39 p.m.(4/24/1006 AR)

I pray.

Written By Charlaine

April 21, 2017, 10:28 p.m.(4/24/1006 AR)

Relationship Note on Edain

Let no one tell you that you are not a good friend, I enjoy working for the family.

Written By Charlaine

April 21, 2017, 10:26 p.m.(4/24/1006 AR)

Relationship Note on Philippe

Met with my father who made me in charge of my own voice, and for a small time as to when I wed, Blanchard affairs.

Written By Ulfric

April 21, 2017, 9:49 p.m.(4/24/1006 AR)

Relationship Note on Valencia

Today, I met a princess. She was a very nice princess at that, not quite as feisty as the princess I saw beat up that other girl. But she was still very nice. Invited me out to a party as well. Could hardly believe me ears at that, a party with me innit? I been to a lot of parties, but I mean a party with other noble types. I hardly ever got to even see the captain's cabin when I was a youngin. Britches were always too filled with the sea water. I'm very excited, she was very pretty.

Maybe I'll get to drink even better wine at a fancier place. I hope.

Written By Seva

April 21, 2017, 6:36 p.m.(4/24/1006 AR)

Today I sat down and rolled, dipped, and dried 120 sticks of incense. My hands smell wonderful but I can no longer feel them.

The room Dominic is letting me stay in is now filled with them, various tinctures, bundles of herbs, and two live plants.

I’m grateful that all of it can fit into a corner but it all makes me wonder. To own a crafting business as a noble is frowned upon. Yet I still desire to see my work sitting in a store front window.

I don’t need the money nor really want it. So it makes little sense for my daydreams to be filled with visions of me working as a store clerk. Have I inhaled too much plant dust?

The last sentence is scratched out and written next to it is a note. “That’s not a thing. I need to stop using that as an excuse.”

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