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Written By Andromeda

Nov. 16, 2020, 9:04 p.m.(5/24/1014 AR)

Tremorus is a splendid city atop a mountain. In ages past, there was a particular punishment, reserved for the most vile of traitors and those who had otherwise severely offended our rulers.

It's called the dragon's flight.

First, you must have your target at your mercy. This is a method of execution, not an honourable death in battle.

You will cut slits beneath their shoulder-blades. If needed, you will break away their ribs, outwards, beneath. This is to create a gap. A pair of wounds large enough that you can reach in and pull their lungs out.

If done correctly, this will not kill them. But I am told the agony is uncomparable.

When your enemy has their lungs out their back, like stunted wings, they will slowly suffocate in their own blood.

So, having them thrown off the side of a cliff, to see if their new wings will let them fly...

It is a mercy.

Though, of course, through this pain, they will still have time to consider their lives, and their actions, and every moment that led up to hurtling through the air to a brutal death. If the cliff you throw them off is tall enough.

Tremorus touches the sky. Tremorus is tall enough.

I wonder,

can Ivan the Apostate fly like a dragon?

Written By Iseulet

Nov. 16, 2020, 5:47 p.m.(5/24/1014 AR)

I had given up rum for years- it does funny things to my head. Makes me brave.

Time to crack out a bottle, I'd say.

Written By Harlex

Nov. 16, 2020, 4:36 p.m.(5/24/1014 AR)

Most choices for a commoner come down to how much worse off will I be, when the dust settles.

You can bolster a soldier with words like freedom, honor and duty but you can't feed those to starving families and you're a damned idiot if you try.

Keep that in mind. Tend to see folks get carried away with all the big words when the fighting is about to start.

Written By Rylan

Nov. 16, 2020, 4:18 p.m.(5/24/1014 AR)

An Ode to the Homesick

Familiarity, that sense of knowing what is around me
Each brick and tile, each piece of furniture, each street
For all of the comforts and pleasures of this city
It is not home

Contempt, or disregarding of all I have created here
Each friendship, each routine of the day, each step
For all of the miles, maybe a hundred or more, a single ship
Would take me home

Anticipation, looking forward to where sea meets shore
Each swell and crest, each rising tide, each wave
For all the scents and sounds of the island
I'm coming home

Adoration, loving the warmth of sun and family
Each rustling grapevine, each terrace, each stone
For all the flavours bursting on my tongue
I am home

Restlesness, feeling that my feet move too quickly
Each step ten more than that of those around
For now the softer, simpler life of this place
Doesn't feel like home

Regret, perhaps even sorrow itself draws in
Each morning, each evening, each night
For all the love given to this place
This is not home
Any longer

Written By Gaspar

Nov. 16, 2020, 3:45 p.m.(5/24/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Leonel

My brother and I have reunited. For two decades now, I thought he wanted nothing to with me. That's not the case. We have a lot of lost time to make up. Beware, citizens of Arx. We're a formidable force.

Written By Aureth

Nov. 16, 2020, 3:11 p.m.(5/24/1014 AR)

Dominus Orazio was from the Lyceum, yes; a son of House Saik before he took his oath. But he was first, and foremost, a priest of the Faith. He was an institutionalist. As long as I knew him, he always used to sign his letters "in faith". He was mantled in it. Faith in the gods, yes, but above all, faith in the Faith. The Church.

It's a small thing, but since the Carnifex chose to claim me for the role pending the Convocation, I have done the same. It is my intent, too, to be an institutionalist. The structure and authority of the Faith must continue. It must not be eaten from inside or without by small men who would try to thieve its power for its panoply, and abuse its foundation, its public trust, for their own ends.

We must protect our flock, the Faithful. We must be as shepherds. And to do that, we must look to our own house. The walls must be sturdy as the bones of the Cathedral that did not break or shatter even when consumed in flames set by our avowed enemies.

This Orthodox should rally to this. The Pragmatists should rally to this. We are a whole Faith, and though there is room for difference of opinion about individual policies, differences of theological approach, of study, of aim, we must be a whole Faith as the gods are a whole Pantheon.

We are strong as our foundations if we but choose to be. Pray with me for our Dominion and reject those who would make us small.

Written By Ida

Nov. 16, 2020, 2:58 p.m.(5/24/1014 AR)

There are only five people, not including my children, for whom I might punch someone for without much provocation: my brother Austen, former Guildmaster Joscelin, Prince Edain, High Lord Alis, and Sir Preston. Two of them are gone. I hope people stop coming for any of the other three and make me risk my integrity.

Written By Tyrus

Nov. 16, 2020, 2:24 p.m.(5/24/1014 AR)

To think one's enemies are either fools or passive is the best way to be surprised by them.

Written By Neve

Nov. 16, 2020, 2:24 p.m.(5/24/1014 AR)

With all the chaos, and the anger, and this shakeup I am reminded - you will be unlikely to be poked by a stabby-thing of war if you hug a tree.

I think I will hug a tree today.

Written By Eirene

Nov. 16, 2020, 11:41 a.m.(5/23/1014 AR)

I've realized I haven't written much about my children lately, so I will do so in order to embarrass them thoroughly when they're older.

Both of them love their baby half-brother Jace very much. They also practice bandaging him up to where he looks like he's been swaddled within an inch of his life. Always while I watch, of course. I wouldn't want my kids to do any last damage to him. Iris doesn't show much maternal instinct which is fine. I didn't either until I had her and Idris. I'm not going to shove my children into gender boxes. They can be who they are inside and their outside can reflect that.

However, I am not dying their hair purple no matter how they ask. No. That will be a birthday gift when they turn seven, provided they haven't grown out of that. I may also be gifting them sailors' daggers. They retain a sharp enough edge for cutting food up but lack a tip to stabby stab anyone. You can never start too early with proper blade safety and they -are- Malvicis.

Written By Monique

Nov. 16, 2020, 11:24 a.m.(5/23/1014 AR)

I had a terrible nightmare, but then it was replaced by the most beautiful dream.

Written By Dio

Nov. 16, 2020, 10:01 a.m.(5/23/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Ilira

Are hearts something one can shape on his own? Is it not set aflame, or protected or stolen by those whom he lets close enough to touch it?

There is something satisfying about resignation, and very dangerous about hope. Whispers are among the Compact's greatest weapons.

Written By Tyrus

Nov. 16, 2020, 9:30 a.m.(5/23/1014 AR)

Patience and control. To relinquish either is to invite disaster. This was a lesson that took me too long to retain.

I yet live to change and adapt and so I shall.

Written By Ida

Nov. 16, 2020, 9:23 a.m.(5/23/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Porter

I am sometimes quite humbled by the trust Sir Preston has in me. The siege yard at the Templars compound is beautiful - in a way, perhaps, one with a love of smithing and building things might see. Sir Porter and I did a bit of show-and-tell with one of the trebuchets, which I promise was wholly for training. Bags of hay were flung around the courtyard while the flow of motion such a machine utilizes was studied. Sir Porter put me to shame with his ability to successfully hit the target and I wonder if he's just a natural at it. I'm sure some close to him might have thoughts! But more truly, it was a good session, along with some general instruction in smithing itself.

Rigby seems unsure about the Knight of Solace, and sometimes gives me one of his famed long-suffered looks when Sir Porter is at the shop to make nails. Not all that unexpected from Rigby, though, and it amuses me. I hope to help with the rebuilding of the Cathedral as well - moving rubble out, hopefully helping with the actual brick and mortar, as they say. And nails. If it weren't so dangerous, I bet we could make snow-seraphs in the piles of nails we're going to probably create.

Written By Alis

Nov. 16, 2020, 9:10 a.m.(5/23/1014 AR)


The desire for it can keep you going, one foot in front of the other, when you feel as though you have lost everything. The need for it, pushing you relentlessly to learn more. To be more. To be ready for a day when you might finally be able to claim it.

It doesn't matter if what you deem justice would be impossible, so long as the hope is there, however small.

But therein lies the sticky mess of exactly what justice is, and what it will mean. And when you find that it may well require mercy beyond what you think you are capable of, is when you finally understand what it means to hold to honor and duty and your oaths above all else.

It is both a bitter medicine to swallow, and freedom.

May the Gods help guide me to remember this when we will need it most.

Written By Preston

Nov. 16, 2020, 5:09 a.m.(5/23/1014 AR)

I find myself with a quiet moment - and I thought I would write a journal about the recent loss. Most Holy Orazio came to the Rectory when he was already grown and I was young - though at times it was fun to remind him that despite my age, I had been at the heart of the Faith longer even than him. It is hard to think of a world where he won't be present. Many faces changed over the years, Orazio has been constant - not always on the same side as me in debates, but always on the side of the Faith, as we all were.

The idea of a world without him is a strange one. Though each time I dwell on his death I am reminded of a conversation I had with him after Stormwall. We had lost half the order in that battle to stop the Gyre, men injured or dead. The responsibility I felt for that, and the sorrow at the loss of our brothers, weighed on me. I spoke to Father Orazio, and he was stern with me - I could have my grief, for grief was natural, but if I let it freeze me from action then he would be most happy to accept my resignation because I was no use then.

It is the same now, my grief is there and I feel it for Orazio's loss, but I won't allow it to paralyse us or hold us back from what is right. Orazio would be the first to be angry if his legacy were used to stymie the Faith, to allow evil to advance even one step. We will do what we must and defeat the Eurusi, a war started under his auspices. And we will find those who supported and fuelled this attack on the Faith and we will carve their disease from the flesh of the compact. Not because they killed Orazio the person, but because they assaulted the Faith and it is for the Faith and what is good that this is done.

Written By Damiana

Nov. 16, 2020, 2:47 a.m.(5/23/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Cambria

Pre-reckoning Oathlandic chivalric romance is a favorite of mine, if you can get a rare copy outside the White City.

Written By Ripley

Nov. 15, 2020, 10:27 p.m.(5/22/1014 AR)


I love them. So fat and chubby and wrinkly. They can be anything they want to be underneath all that chub. They just gotta grow and it'll be revealed. I could just sit and look at them forever. Pinch their cheeks. Gently of course. I miss my siblings being babies. Okay, my sisters and brothers need to have more babies, or get married and have babies.

Written By Derovai

Nov. 15, 2020, 9:53 p.m.(5/22/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Orazio

Given recent events, I had a glance back over my journals throughout the years, looking to see if I'd ever written anything specifically about Dominus Orazio. What I found was a limerick so painful that I'll never be rid of the scar, so I can only hope that the Dominus (then-Legate) never had the ill fortune to read it. I'm not sure why he'd have made the effort, but even so, my profuse, too late, and never-ending apologies to you, Dominus.

From all accounts, you were a fine, decent man. I'll say this; it's never a good position to be in, to be the one responsible for the murder of a fine, decent man, particularly one with so many dedicated friends and acquaintances, many of them being fine, decent, and well armed. Perhaps your murderers shouldn't have claimed responsibility quite so loudly. It suggests that not only are they worthless cowards, but also deeply, deeply stupid.

Rest well. Your murderers certainly won't.

Written By Khanne

Nov. 15, 2020, 9:40 p.m.(5/22/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Orazio

I have lost many people in my life, lost quite a few that I was exceptionally close to. But this one... this loss is hitting me a bit differently. Some may not have understood the sort of fellowship I was blessed to share with Dominus Orazio, back when our lives were just a little less hectic.

Even now, in trying to write this small note to express what I am feeling, I hit a wall and stumble, at a loss for words.

Our lives were vastly different, of course... but I believe that our respect for one another was mutual... and, if I am at all honest, some of the trials and tribulations of the paths we walked were... astonishingly parallel.

Of course, our lives got busier and busier and it really prevented us from getting together, but we did talk about doing so...

Dominus Orazio, I know you are in good hands returning to the wheel... but you will be missed here. I will be drinking a bit of whiskey in your memory tonight.

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