Skip to main content.

Written By Branan

Dec. 18, 2016, 8:21 p.m.(6/4/1005 AR)

A week of drama and a week of toil,
A week of exhaustion and a week of sweat,
A week of planting, of tilling the soil,
A week of investments some would call bet.

A week of realizations and a week of research,
a week of storms and a week for hearts,
A week of combing over archives of the church,
And a week of making new, fresh starts.

Written By Felix

Dec. 18, 2016, 8:19 p.m.(6/4/1005 AR)

I'd never been on a hunt before, but everyone seemed to have had a great deal of fun at Duchess Belladonna Pravus' event. It was good to get away from the forge for a little while.

Written By Max

Dec. 18, 2016, 8:16 p.m.(6/4/1005 AR)

It's been a week of contemplation and quiet expansion. Many things are afoot. I am contemplating... many things.

Momentous things that will affect the direction of my people for generations to come.

This isn't what I was supposed to spend my late teens doing.

I should be bathing in blood and glory.

Instead, I'm studying economics.

Fuck you, Ixion.

Fuck you so much.

I miss you.

Written By Sudara

Dec. 18, 2016, 8:15 p.m.(6/4/1005 AR)

Relationship Note on Cybele

Referred to me by the Archscholar, this rather unusual young man is striking even by the standards of someone accustomed to the tastes and fashions of the Truesworn. Conversation with him is yet to settle into a particularly conventional format, but it is certainly fascinating to make up one side of an encounter between an inveterate bookworm and someone raised in a firmly oral culture. I sincerely hope that we might both benefit from what we learn, about ourselves as well as each other.

Written By Max

Dec. 18, 2016, 8:07 p.m.(6/4/1005 AR)

I got Darrow moved in.

I played a bit of a joke on him, and I can't wait to see how he takes it.

I put in some luxuries. Little things. A scented candle. A soft comforter on the bed. A painting on the wall.

Nothing truly spectacular, just enough to bring the room some color.

Just to tweak his nose a bit.

It's good to be the Count.

Written By Darrow

Dec. 18, 2016, 8:05 p.m.(6/4/1005 AR)

Count Darkwater had a room decorated for me - the suite of Lament, fitting in with the decor by mirroring with my keep on the Isle of Lacrimus.

...but it's decorated.

...I hate decorations.

I will have to strip it. All I need is a desk and a chest. This ridiculous four-poster darkwood monstrosity can go to firewood. Give me a pallet, so that I can feel the ache of the stone.

-KoS

Written By Aurora

Dec. 18, 2016, 7:22 p.m.(6/4/1005 AR)

I have found allies in the strangest of places, with the strangest of people. I am working hard to see that the Mummers are once again the focal point of the city's entertainment, but there is still much to be done and many people I need to speak with. You would think nobles would be falling out of the sky for the chance to have their name on the marquee in big bold letters showing who is to thank for the latest production.

Written By Rowan

Dec. 18, 2016, 7:06 p.m.(6/4/1005 AR)

Relationship Note on Niamh

I'm pretty sure my mother wishes I would be more like my sister. She does well by her title and has been here in Arx ahead of me by three years, making a name for herself and the Greenwood.

She still won't fall for my pranks and still rolls her eyes at my jokes. At least her elk still likes me better.

Written By Joscelin

Dec. 18, 2016, 7:05 p.m.(6/4/1005 AR)

The bonfire and hunt sponsored by the Duchess Belladonna Pravus was quite a success. I helped Felix Meadson bring in his supplies, and promptly met up with Ianthe to join the hunt. I wasn't dressed for it, in the silks that Myri-Mother made me for the archery contest last summer. But as I meant to shoot my pray and not wrestle it, I figured I would do alright.

And I did! Two fat does, I think I brought in the bulk of the meat for the dinner. But! I missed the eight-prong beauty that had been with my ladies when I spotted them. They went down like willing sacrifices and he took off like a coward-!

What? Oh yes, someone caught him. I think I overheard someone call him Lord Killian of Ashford? Yes, and no, I'm not going to tell you his hunting tale! That's his and I'll not touch it. And don't you dare believe him; it takes skill to dodge a charging buck.


Written By Joscelin

Dec. 18, 2016, 7:02 p.m.(6/4/1005 AR)

It's been an emotional week, personally and professionally. Oh, this isn't bad, mind you. At least, not entirely. I grieve the changes in people, the loss in others, friends gone, chances missed. I can't comment directly about much of it. I am favored, I think, for my discretion as much as for my skill with metal and stone.

I will say that I can grieve silently, quietly, for those that are gone from my life and those that move in a different direction. For the latter, I pray for a parallel path to my road, so I can still see your face from time to time and remember, and learn from you as I take in your life and pattern from this new angle.

And don't fear, my friend; the heart remembers and while the emotions may change, the love does not. It's all still right here.

Written By Rowan

Dec. 18, 2016, 6:55 p.m.(6/4/1005 AR)

I spent one night drinking with some sailors on the beach. Not a lot in common with the lot, and at the same time, more than you'd think.

They taught me a new song to add to my repertoire of tunes to make my sister smack the back of my head. It goes thusly:

I had just come home and took a room, I was all setled in to recline,
When I saw a delectable maiden go by, To the room right next to mine.
Like a bold adventurer then, I set out to explore,
And I took up a position there by, The keyhole in the door.

The keyhole in the door, my boys, the keyhole it he door.
I took up a position there by the keyhole in the door.

She first took off her slippers, her dainty feet did show,
And then she took her bloomers off, and revealed her so-and-so.
And when she stretched out on her bed, I couldn't stand no more,
It was one, two, three, and I turned the key, in the keyhole in the door.

The keyhole in the door, my boys, the keyhole in the door.
It was one, two, three and I turned the key, in the keyhole in the door.


She didn't say a single word, But she took me in her arms,
And pretty soon I was much engaged, In charting all her charms.
But just in case some other sailor, did see the sights I saw,
I hung up my trousers right above the keyhole in the door.

The keyhole in the door, my boys, the keyhole it he door.
I hung up my trousers right above the keyhole in the door.

That night I sailed in glorious style, and other things besides,
And on her lily white stomach, Boys, I rode such lovely tides.
But when I woke next morning, Boys, My instrument was sore.
As if I had been using it on the keyhole in the door.

The keyhole in the door, my boys, the keyhole it he door.
As if I had been using it on the keyhole int he door.

Be warned by this, young sailormen, And listen unto me,
What I caught then, no fishermen have ever caught at sea.
Beware the pox, the hidden rocks, that lie in wait ashore,
It's safer by far to bend your spar in the keyhole in the door.

The keyhole in the door, my boys, the keyhole it he door.
It's safer by far to bend your spar in the keyhole in the door.

Written By Aldwin

Dec. 18, 2016, 6:43 p.m.(6/4/1005 AR)

On Knowledge Lost

I have been asked numerous times of late why we know so little of certain subjects. These are almost invariably inquiries into matters that might be termed as ancient history (the Rex'Alfar, the Nox'Alfar, and so on). Many reasons have lead to these things vanishing from not only the Great Archives, but from many others as well. In this we have to address not only the larger, most impactful events on where the knowledge went, but also the more mundane.

We began our Kingdom during the Reckoning, a time fraught with peril and darkness. It was a time of such upheaval that it is no wonder if few records of it were created in the first place. A time of such strife that the Canticle of Vellichor says Vellichor himself came to the world and charged the Arvani with keeping knowledge in our journals and other books. Remember, the earliest known men settling Arvum was nearly 6,000 years ago, yet the Canticle is from just under 1,000. We are already at a great disadvantage when it comes to remembering our history.

Of greatest note, the Great Fire during the early reign of Alarice the Great was nothing short of a calamity. Not only did it destroy the Shrine of Vellichor (which at the time was where the various Journals and other books of knowledge given to the Scholars for keeping) were stored, but also the homes and lives of those caught up in the conflagration. In a single tragic night, the ancient of records of the Compact were destroyed and the Shrine burnt to the ground. You can still see the old walls, charred, surrounding the current Shrine. This was during the year 506 AR, relieving us of almost five centuries of histories, personal accounts, and other learning. Beyond this, we are not certain of the actual reason for the fire. It could have been someone tripping and dropping a candle at the wrong time; it could have been a purposeful event orchestrated by our enemies.

Within a few short centuries, King Darius Thrax ascended to the Throne of the Compact. His reign was one where might and steel made for more change than forethought and scholarly pursuits. He was not a pious man and neither the centuries of tradition, nor the sanctity of holy grounds hold any weight for him. Not only were Legates put to the sword for refusing to bow to his will, but the soldiers of King Darius scoured the Great Archives and destroyed any works they could find that spoke of the House Grayson's past; at least those works that spoke of that past in a good way. Many of the Scholars who made it out of the invasion of the Archives took to reconstructing those journals they could remember, many were lost during the War of Stories. The only reason the original treaty between the Compact and the Nox'Alfar survived is likely due to none of the soldiers involved understanding the elven tongue.

As a people, we have also experienced centuries of mistrust of magic and anything that might be construed as its practice or understanding. The Reckoning left a hard imprint on our collective psyche and gave us an instinctual desire to duck away the merest mention of the occult. This is seen in the way that we have turned elves into fantasy; demons into stories to scare children; the way we rationalize that these must just be another way to view a foreign invasion force. We know, now, that these things are true in their representation. Consider how that fear, though, would have worked against keepers of history and those that would support them. If everyone is in a panic about magic, demons, and the consequences of consorting with elves, then who would wish to keep texts related to any of that in their home? Those likely to have the largest collections would be the nobility, and they are the ones who would have lived most in fear of their political enemies pointing to those same tomes as collusion with demonic forces, thus ensuring their political downfall. So more of our history was lost due to fear, the work of the Inquisition, and politics.

Then there is what we all forget: ink and parchment will last only so long under most conditions. The Scholars do what they can to copy older works, especially those of interest, in to a newer form. In the end, though, time will see the end to all of us. There are mice and rats that like to chew through books and scrolls. There are human factors of spills, fires, and so on.

We must all strive to do as Vellichor asked us to do. We must also understand that, as with all things in our lives, we will not have a perfect record of success. There is no one fiend, no one reason, that I would lay our loss of vital history on. There are many factors that have contributed to the decay of our collective awareness.

Yet, there are those who fight against this decay. I commend the Society of Explorers, the Scholars (both those who tend the Shrines, the Archives, the Academy, and the Field Scholars), and others who continually bring us new bits of our past and help set the course for our future. Those who give of themselves so that others may find edification are truly the beacons in the darkness that we could not survive without.

Written By Edain

Dec. 18, 2016, 6:23 p.m.(6/4/1005 AR)

The Greenmarch have been emerging from the Greenwood and taking steps to become a more active part of the Compact. Even as Lady Niamh the Sword of Greenmarch has been making a name for herself, Lord Fiachra, Lord Rowan, Lady Neve and Lady Eirlys have all arrived in recent days. It is still a long road I fear until they feel a welcome part of the Compact, but I pray that in time they all shall. I suspect, however, that Sir Arugula is mighty jealous of the war-elk they ride though.

Written By Edain

Dec. 18, 2016, 5:59 p.m.(6/3/1005 AR)

I did a thing this past week. I bestowed a new title, Hammer of the West upon Ida Ferron, and with that title came the rank of knighthood. I know pride is a sin but I was very proud of how sneakily invited, now Dame Ida. to the Manor to join us for a vassal diner we were hosting and then BOOM! Surprise knighting! It was only the second time I had knighted someone. The first was the morning after the Tragedy at Sanctum, when I knighted my squire for his bravery in helping us fight back and put down our attackers.

It actually felt very good to perform the formal ceremony and to guide someone through taken the Three Oaths. It was almost, life affirming, as if maybe the first time I really believed I am settling into my role as Prince of Sanctum and life was. . . not moving on for we always carry the past with us, but moving forward.

Written By Khanne

Dec. 18, 2016, 5:09 p.m.(6/3/1005 AR)

I know, I know. I swore to myself that I would write much more often than I have managed this week. But, I made that vow when I first arrived in Arx. I had no idea just how busy... just how swept up into things I would be. They say I must do this while I am here, for the archives, but I mainly do it for myself.

So much has happened. I have accomplished some things on my to-do list, but not all. I am still working on acquiring leathers, weapons, and other things that I need, but some progress has been made. Majority of my time has been meeting with more and more people from House Redrain, and slowly getting to know them better. Building my connections to those of the north helps make missing home a little more bearable. Building connections to others in town has made life interesting. Certainly expanding my knowledge of other houses and other beliefs is important to my own mission, and hopefully I can help them as well, and for those in need, show them the beauty of balance.

I should probably go into more detail, but I involved myself in a drinking challenge between Lord Sigurd and the Redrain servant Morrighan. I did not intend to do so, especially since I was already feeling a lack of composure from too little sleep, but I did. I lost miserably. I will have my rematch, Sigurd. This I swear. But please, next time can we drink something that tastes better? That swill was worse than poison! Some have said, and I may have to agree that whoever gave that to you made it of piss and passed it off as liquor. Never. Again.

Where was I? Oh, I would go into more detail, but my brain is in recover mode. I have some meetings to look forward to, some that truly intrigue me. I do enjoy delving into the layers of personality of those I come across more so than knowing them for the surface they reveal. I prefer to see what is under the mask that they wear.

And we all wear them.

Written By Bethany

Dec. 18, 2016, 4:45 p.m.(6/3/1005 AR)

[ From the gritty sand-strewn observations of B. Mercier: ]

* Royals in attendence: many. Garbed in the finery deemed acceptable for a hunt - and one supposes that each rider matches their mount.

* Lord Grayward. Only a little ominous. Also, yes, the epitome of politesse.

* Guildmaster and sister mirror each other's actions, at times. Makes me wish Mother and Father had made me an older sister instead of the youngest.

* Noticed - one very dour gentleman. Unsure of name, family or station.

* Agreed. So many Nightgolds.

* Perhaps should ask brother about DW. Feel as if my history is amiss in regard to this family.

* Suspicions confirmed: MANY cousins.

Written By Kima

Dec. 18, 2016, 4:44 p.m.(6/3/1005 AR)

I have tried many times since learning of my brother's demise to sit down and write something that means anything. I have read, of course, the many entries submitted by those who have been touched by his loss.

When we were children, one of the games we used to play had to do with stepping into the shoes of nameless heroes during the time of the Reckoning. We would stand against numberless foes, fighting the impossible battle. Knowing that we would fail; that we would fall. My brother and I, you see, understood the power of a last stand.

We knew, as only children can, what it was to live.

Eos, I wish I could have seen your last stand.

I bet it was really something.

Written By Costas

Dec. 18, 2016, 3:58 p.m.(6/3/1005 AR)

These are some of the things I know about Baron Eos Saik:

When the enemy came to his doorstep, he went forth to confront them with no hesitation.

He died on a battlefield leading a force that struck down three or more for every one that fell.

He deeply loved his family and those in his household, and the people of his lands.

He was beloved in return by those people not just for his compassion, but for the wisdom of his leadership and the conviction with which he discharged his duties.

He drank whiskey, but not to excess.

He knew violence, but did not revel in it.

He understood and acted with Honor, but did not let this interfere with Duty.

He asked no man to do anything he would not do himself.

Eos Saik, you were beloved. I have wept for you, and will again when your spectre visits my memory. But I will do it in the sea, so that you need not look down upon my tears.

Written By Ainsley

Dec. 18, 2016, 2:46 p.m.(6/3/1005 AR)

Relationship Note on Max

I met Max at the Hall of Heroes. He's permanently unimpressed with the city, and cranky about being a count. We sparred at the training center and he won, "of course".

Written By Ainsley

Dec. 18, 2016, 2:45 p.m.(6/3/1005 AR)

Relationship Note on Deva

I met Deva at the training center after I sparred with Count Darkwater. She was talking about spinning. I hope she's alright.

Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.

Leave blank if this journal is not a relationship

Mark if this is a private, black journal entry