Written By Alarissa
Jan. 23, 2018, 1:19 p.m.(1/9/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Mae
I am reminded that you are welcome to come and sing such to Astrid, if you like.
Written By Margerie
Jan. 23, 2018, 12:16 p.m.(1/9/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Kael
You are not foolish, nephew. I hope that makes her proud.
Even if I may begrudge the years we have not had to know one another, I will be forever grateful to your good governess' work in making you the young man that came to Oakhaven, the young man that serves Oakhaven, and the young man that leads Oakhaven.
Even if I may begrudge the years we have not had to know one another, I will be forever grateful to your good governess' work in making you the young man that came to Oakhaven, the young man that serves Oakhaven, and the young man that leads Oakhaven.
Written By Margerie
Jan. 23, 2018, 12:12 p.m.(1/9/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Samantha
What a fascinating idea! I must remember to write to request a copy of the book. When we have had a chance to read it, would it be possible to organize a group to discuss the concepts you have set forth?
I am very much looking forward to reading your work.
M Keaton
I am very much looking forward to reading your work.
M Keaton
Written By Eirene
Jan. 23, 2018, 12:10 p.m.(1/9/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Freja
My very very first night in Arx - I met Princess Freja. And we proceeded to get very drunk.
I will always remember her for that, my first friend in a big town I know jack-nobody in save my kin.
I will always remember her for that, my first friend in a big town I know jack-nobody in save my kin.
Written By Thena
Jan. 23, 2018, 11:14 a.m.(1/9/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Ailith
I am so glad we have such incredibly talented wordsmiths for the Faith. Because I guarantee you, no one wants to deal with a service or song that /I/ wrote.
Written By Mae
Jan. 23, 2018, 10:58 a.m.(1/9/1008 AR)
Starting some time ago, I've been singing a lullaby to each new baby that is born, and sharing it with the mother and whoever else might wish to sing (and sharing it in a previous white journal). The song is sweet and beautiful and captures, so totally, exactly what I want to say. Of course, I can't sing. I'm so very bad at it. But I'm lucky to have a song beautiful enough that the words are more important than the voice singing them.
The lullaby was written by Seraph Ailith. Part of me wonders where a woman gets such beautiful ideas. The most of me hopes it was Jayus and Death both that helped Sister Ailith with her writing. If any wish to hear it for themselves, I recommend you write to Ailith. I've got a feeling can sing it better than I can.
(Though this last child to enter the world - Lady Ivy Mae Farshaw - got to hear Lady Sorrel sing this song to her. Now that was beautiful!)
The lullaby was written by Seraph Ailith. Part of me wonders where a woman gets such beautiful ideas. The most of me hopes it was Jayus and Death both that helped Sister Ailith with her writing. If any wish to hear it for themselves, I recommend you write to Ailith. I've got a feeling can sing it better than I can.
(Though this last child to enter the world - Lady Ivy Mae Farshaw - got to hear Lady Sorrel sing this song to her. Now that was beautiful!)
Written By Samantha
Jan. 23, 2018, 10:46 a.m.(1/9/1008 AR)
I have written a book! It is supposed to be a text discussing the basics of diplomacy, but its strongest application in dealing sprecifically with Abandoned tribes and convincing them to join the Compact. I have decided not to charge for it, but rather see that a copy is printed for anyone who desires one. It's my hope, however, that it be considered a solid source of instruction in the art and craft of diplomacy.
It's taken me about a year to write, in between the day-to-day obligations of my life. Lady Aislin had at one time solicited me to write something along its lines for the Explorer's Society on how to approach interaction with non-hostile Prodigal tribes. This isn't quite what she asked for, but I think it would still be helpful. I'll have to ask Princess Lou if I may send a copy to be added to the Explorers Society library.
Oh, yes. It's called The Four Pillars of Diplomacy. The idea being, of course, that diplomacy builds a structure and the principles I promote are what create the solid supports to create it.
It's taken me about a year to write, in between the day-to-day obligations of my life. Lady Aislin had at one time solicited me to write something along its lines for the Explorer's Society on how to approach interaction with non-hostile Prodigal tribes. This isn't quite what she asked for, but I think it would still be helpful. I'll have to ask Princess Lou if I may send a copy to be added to the Explorers Society library.
Oh, yes. It's called The Four Pillars of Diplomacy. The idea being, of course, that diplomacy builds a structure and the principles I promote are what create the solid supports to create it.
Written By Harlan
Jan. 23, 2018, 10:27 a.m.(1/9/1008 AR)
An interesting evening. Danced with Lady Aeryn, who I had not met before then, but who was a delight to dance with -- pretty women generally are, I think. Then met Princess Ailys before escorting Princesses Cassima and Caith to an event involving mud and hogs, before escorting Princess Caith to Ashford, then to her home. A full and fulfilling day indeed.
Back to business, though.
Back to business, though.
Written By Kael
Jan. 23, 2018, 10:02 a.m.(1/9/1008 AR)
Today could have been a better day.
I received a messenger informing me that the Governess was ill. No, not one penned by the Governess' own hand. I was surprised, though I admit our missives have been far and few between as of late. From her youngest sister's child. She wrote to me to tell me of this, and that she thought that I should know. She wrote that the hard winters are particularly dangerous for the old and the fragile.
I hate that word. Fragile. Nothing about her is -- was -- fragile. I hate to think of her being that way now. I hate the pictures that those words conjure. I remember a woman that would reprimand me for my boyish infractions and stand steadfastly in the cold to watch me split the firewood to make certain that I did not dally in my punishment. I remember a woman who would refuse my help to move about the furniture in the home, which she decided to do at the change of every season and with every good cleaning. I remember a woman who would tirelessly work with me on my lessons until I got them right. Or at least mostly so.
She always told me that I was not family. She made it plain. Yet she clothed me, she fed me, and she made certain that I knew right from wrong. She would hold me when I hurt -- and I hurt, so very much when I was younger -- and tell me that all would be well, even though I saw the fear and uncertainty in her eyes. She always told me that I would find my way when I told her that I was lost, and she always indulged me when I thought, 'Ah-hah! This is what I am going to do with my life!' only to find a new path on the morrow.
I remember when I was summoned to Oakhaven. I went to her first to express my concerns. She looked at me, straight in the eye, and said, "Do not be foolish, Kael Keaton." So I went, of course I did, and with a great deal more resolve than I would have otherwise.
There is nothing fragile there.
I received a messenger informing me that the Governess was ill. No, not one penned by the Governess' own hand. I was surprised, though I admit our missives have been far and few between as of late. From her youngest sister's child. She wrote to me to tell me of this, and that she thought that I should know. She wrote that the hard winters are particularly dangerous for the old and the fragile.
I hate that word. Fragile. Nothing about her is -- was -- fragile. I hate to think of her being that way now. I hate the pictures that those words conjure. I remember a woman that would reprimand me for my boyish infractions and stand steadfastly in the cold to watch me split the firewood to make certain that I did not dally in my punishment. I remember a woman who would refuse my help to move about the furniture in the home, which she decided to do at the change of every season and with every good cleaning. I remember a woman who would tirelessly work with me on my lessons until I got them right. Or at least mostly so.
She always told me that I was not family. She made it plain. Yet she clothed me, she fed me, and she made certain that I knew right from wrong. She would hold me when I hurt -- and I hurt, so very much when I was younger -- and tell me that all would be well, even though I saw the fear and uncertainty in her eyes. She always told me that I would find my way when I told her that I was lost, and she always indulged me when I thought, 'Ah-hah! This is what I am going to do with my life!' only to find a new path on the morrow.
I remember when I was summoned to Oakhaven. I went to her first to express my concerns. She looked at me, straight in the eye, and said, "Do not be foolish, Kael Keaton." So I went, of course I did, and with a great deal more resolve than I would have otherwise.
There is nothing fragile there.
Written By Samael
Jan. 23, 2018, 9:28 a.m.(1/9/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Monique
Lady Monique,
You are a treasured friend and confidante. I am so very happy to hear about your recent nuptials. I hope it is OK to finally reveal this, but I was honored to be brought in on the secret betrothal when I helped broker the marriage agreement and drew up the contract. When I received an invitation to your Gala personally I had every intention on attending even without a hint of suspicion about what it would turn out to actually be. My schedule simply didn't allow that to happen though. Had I known I would have made it regardless, damned the consequences. But alas, the day has passed. I am honored to call you a friend. I am bitter that I missed your joyous occasion. And I wish you all the happiness our world can offer mortals.
You are a treasured friend and confidante. I am so very happy to hear about your recent nuptials. I hope it is OK to finally reveal this, but I was honored to be brought in on the secret betrothal when I helped broker the marriage agreement and drew up the contract. When I received an invitation to your Gala personally I had every intention on attending even without a hint of suspicion about what it would turn out to actually be. My schedule simply didn't allow that to happen though. Had I known I would have made it regardless, damned the consequences. But alas, the day has passed. I am honored to call you a friend. I am bitter that I missed your joyous occasion. And I wish you all the happiness our world can offer mortals.
Written By Isabetta
Jan. 23, 2018, 9:10 a.m.(1/9/1008 AR)
I have convinced some of my friends that I live in a broom closet.
Luckily none of my friends know any better, but it likely only a matter of time before one of them shows up and demands to see the brooms. This is a problem. I do not wish to disappoint my friends. Now the friends in question were largely princesses, well half princesses, one lady of Kennex (with a huge room) and Joslyn. But still.
I've no idea how or where to acquire brooms, perhaps if I follow some of the servants around long enough they'll lead me to an actual broom closet which I can pilfer the contents of, but then would my room become overly dusty? This matter requires careful thought and consideration. What would be best is if my broom closet room make over could be done in a fashionable manner. Surely this is not too much to ask.
On another note, I've still not fully grasped the difference between this white journal and black journal.
Luckily none of my friends know any better, but it likely only a matter of time before one of them shows up and demands to see the brooms. This is a problem. I do not wish to disappoint my friends. Now the friends in question were largely princesses, well half princesses, one lady of Kennex (with a huge room) and Joslyn. But still.
I've no idea how or where to acquire brooms, perhaps if I follow some of the servants around long enough they'll lead me to an actual broom closet which I can pilfer the contents of, but then would my room become overly dusty? This matter requires careful thought and consideration. What would be best is if my broom closet room make over could be done in a fashionable manner. Surely this is not too much to ask.
On another note, I've still not fully grasped the difference between this white journal and black journal.
Written By Samael
Jan. 23, 2018, 9:09 a.m.(1/9/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Zoey
My daughter, Zoey, has finally joined me and Sabitha in Arx. I couldn't be more pleased. She is a beckon of optimism and joy and has always made me happy and proud. It is much easier to spoil her when she is living under my roof.
Written By Aeryn
Jan. 23, 2018, 8:16 a.m.(1/9/1008 AR)
Lady Khanne asked for happy memories - I'm full of them! I have so many. But recently, this one had come to mind.
In the spring of 1004, my father was starting to fall a little ill and I was turning 14. When my birthday came around, he gifted me the most handsome little canary you ever did see. He was just a hatchling at that stage - naked and tiny, with big closed eyes and a wide, grumpy looking mouth.
The man in my house that was an expert on the subject said that when the little thing grew up he'd sing the most beautiful songs. I couldn't wait! All day and all night I nursed him and it kept me distracted as my father grew weaker and weaker.
Meanwhile the little bird got stronger and stronger. He grew to be vibrant and yellow and I adored him. I kept him in a big cage and gave him silk for his nesting material and spoiled him with toys - not that he ever played with them. He did try to build a nest with the silk, but a thread of it got tangled around his toes and, well, he got hurt - he lost most of his toes but it didn't seem to slow him down much. That's how he got his name, Littlefoot.
The next year, my 15th birthday was arriving but my father got sicker and sicker. And Littlefoot never sang. And he never played with his toys. And he never seemed happy. His once bright little eyes were always cast out of the window of my room. I guess I knew deep down what he really wanted (freedom!) but I never wanted to let go. He was precious and beautiful to look at and I loved to care for his every need, and remained devoted to him.
My father died the day before my 15th birthday. I was heartbroken.
The day of my birthday, I got up and looked at my sad little canary, and thought about my father. I took him out, I gave him one last little kiss goodbye and placed him on my windowsill. Along with a little bowl of birdseed. When I opened my window, he looked around in shock a bit and finally, after about an hour took his first flight.
That night I checked the seed bowl - it had gone untouched. Same as the second, and the third night.
It felt like I had lost two of my best friends - my Father and Littlefoot.
But the morning of the 4th day, I awoke to a strange sound outside of my window. The most magical little bird-song I'd ever heard.
Littlefoot had returned, and built a nest right outside of my window and had devoured the birdseed that I left him. From that moment on, I knew I had done the right thing by letting go. Actually, I learned a lot of lessons from Littlefoot about appreciating someone else's happiness and life.
He did that every morning until the day I left Artshall just weeks ago. Don't worry, I asked someone to go ahead and leave out the birdseed for him every morning while I'm gone. Well, at least in the Spring and Summer. In the Autumn and Winter he goes somewhere warmer...
I hear he has found himself a girlfriend now. I fully expect that when I go back to Artshall the trees outside of my old room will be just full of a happy little family, singing for their breakfast.
In the spring of 1004, my father was starting to fall a little ill and I was turning 14. When my birthday came around, he gifted me the most handsome little canary you ever did see. He was just a hatchling at that stage - naked and tiny, with big closed eyes and a wide, grumpy looking mouth.
The man in my house that was an expert on the subject said that when the little thing grew up he'd sing the most beautiful songs. I couldn't wait! All day and all night I nursed him and it kept me distracted as my father grew weaker and weaker.
Meanwhile the little bird got stronger and stronger. He grew to be vibrant and yellow and I adored him. I kept him in a big cage and gave him silk for his nesting material and spoiled him with toys - not that he ever played with them. He did try to build a nest with the silk, but a thread of it got tangled around his toes and, well, he got hurt - he lost most of his toes but it didn't seem to slow him down much. That's how he got his name, Littlefoot.
The next year, my 15th birthday was arriving but my father got sicker and sicker. And Littlefoot never sang. And he never played with his toys. And he never seemed happy. His once bright little eyes were always cast out of the window of my room. I guess I knew deep down what he really wanted (freedom!) but I never wanted to let go. He was precious and beautiful to look at and I loved to care for his every need, and remained devoted to him.
My father died the day before my 15th birthday. I was heartbroken.
The day of my birthday, I got up and looked at my sad little canary, and thought about my father. I took him out, I gave him one last little kiss goodbye and placed him on my windowsill. Along with a little bowl of birdseed. When I opened my window, he looked around in shock a bit and finally, after about an hour took his first flight.
That night I checked the seed bowl - it had gone untouched. Same as the second, and the third night.
It felt like I had lost two of my best friends - my Father and Littlefoot.
But the morning of the 4th day, I awoke to a strange sound outside of my window. The most magical little bird-song I'd ever heard.
Littlefoot had returned, and built a nest right outside of my window and had devoured the birdseed that I left him. From that moment on, I knew I had done the right thing by letting go. Actually, I learned a lot of lessons from Littlefoot about appreciating someone else's happiness and life.
He did that every morning until the day I left Artshall just weeks ago. Don't worry, I asked someone to go ahead and leave out the birdseed for him every morning while I'm gone. Well, at least in the Spring and Summer. In the Autumn and Winter he goes somewhere warmer...
I hear he has found himself a girlfriend now. I fully expect that when I go back to Artshall the trees outside of my old room will be just full of a happy little family, singing for their breakfast.
Written By Theron
Jan. 23, 2018, 8:13 a.m.(1/9/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Sabella
You always have the wickedest ideas. It's good, though - I enjoy them.
Written By Victus
Jan. 23, 2018, 3:11 a.m.(1/9/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Khanne
Hoping to hear some good memories are ya', eh? I gotta say that most of the things I call 'happy' ain't the same brand of happy a lot of people enjoy in the same way. Lots of things actually, but I can think of a few. Few that matter anyway.
This one time when I was a real young little thing, I saw a girl huddled up in off the street corner. She had clamps on her wrists, clearly meaning she was property to someone else at the time. I had a hunk of bread leftover because Uncle Donrai kept me well-fed to grow big and strong and the like. Decided that this little girl looks hungry, she probably needs it more than me. So I handed it over. She was scared at first, probably wasn't used to anybody touching her if it wasn't to get smacked or dragged. But she came around when she saw I was just offering some food. She said thank you and I gave her a smile. Never saw her again.
Uncle Donrai though, he weren't too happy with me for that one. I can remember his words in the back of my head like it were yesterday.
"You must never be weak. The weak shall perish unmourned, unloved, and unremembered."
That was what he told me. Earned me a proper fucking shiner on the eye too, not from his own hand though. My Uncle never smiled much, but when he started wearin' that mask it's not like you could tell anyway. He definitely wasn't smiling on that day either.
"I will tolerate no such with you, Victus Baseborn. The bastard of Maelstrom, the son of Argus, will be a weapon soaked in the gore of our enemies. Never show weakness before me again, or I will see you cast into the sea."
So that's what I committed to doing when I was growin' up instead of sharing my bread with Thralls, and Uncle was satisfied. Pretty fucking grim I know, but the happy part of it I didn't realize till a whole lot later. When I started thinking on everything that got me this far without gettin' myself killed or a whole load of others either, I sometimes think about that little Thrall girl I spotted all those years ago. See she taught me something really, really important that I didn't even think of at the time.
That when the most important people in my life were trying to steer me wrong, I was still trying to do something halfway decent. Whenever there's a new pile of shit to deal with, I can always think back to that time and say "Yeah Victus, you were in a shit time and you did alright."
Lil gleaming pearl in a dark place. Taught me that even in the shittiest of times, surrounded by shittiest influences, somebody can still do a good thing for somebody else. And it'll never be too late for it to be you yourself. I dunno where that girl is now. In all likelihood, probably not with us anymore. But I appreciate her teaching me that it's never too dark for there to be a just a little bit of light.
So, happy memory from me. Do whatever it is you do with it.
This one time when I was a real young little thing, I saw a girl huddled up in off the street corner. She had clamps on her wrists, clearly meaning she was property to someone else at the time. I had a hunk of bread leftover because Uncle Donrai kept me well-fed to grow big and strong and the like. Decided that this little girl looks hungry, she probably needs it more than me. So I handed it over. She was scared at first, probably wasn't used to anybody touching her if it wasn't to get smacked or dragged. But she came around when she saw I was just offering some food. She said thank you and I gave her a smile. Never saw her again.
Uncle Donrai though, he weren't too happy with me for that one. I can remember his words in the back of my head like it were yesterday.
"You must never be weak. The weak shall perish unmourned, unloved, and unremembered."
That was what he told me. Earned me a proper fucking shiner on the eye too, not from his own hand though. My Uncle never smiled much, but when he started wearin' that mask it's not like you could tell anyway. He definitely wasn't smiling on that day either.
"I will tolerate no such with you, Victus Baseborn. The bastard of Maelstrom, the son of Argus, will be a weapon soaked in the gore of our enemies. Never show weakness before me again, or I will see you cast into the sea."
So that's what I committed to doing when I was growin' up instead of sharing my bread with Thralls, and Uncle was satisfied. Pretty fucking grim I know, but the happy part of it I didn't realize till a whole lot later. When I started thinking on everything that got me this far without gettin' myself killed or a whole load of others either, I sometimes think about that little Thrall girl I spotted all those years ago. See she taught me something really, really important that I didn't even think of at the time.
That when the most important people in my life were trying to steer me wrong, I was still trying to do something halfway decent. Whenever there's a new pile of shit to deal with, I can always think back to that time and say "Yeah Victus, you were in a shit time and you did alright."
Lil gleaming pearl in a dark place. Taught me that even in the shittiest of times, surrounded by shittiest influences, somebody can still do a good thing for somebody else. And it'll never be too late for it to be you yourself. I dunno where that girl is now. In all likelihood, probably not with us anymore. But I appreciate her teaching me that it's never too dark for there to be a just a little bit of light.
So, happy memory from me. Do whatever it is you do with it.
Written By Bastien
Jan. 23, 2018, 1:10 a.m.(1/8/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Yasmine
I don't like anyone.
Written By Sabella
Jan. 23, 2018, 12:19 a.m.(1/8/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Theron
It's a shame we didn't use a blood oath, my Lord.
Written By Joscelin
Jan. 22, 2018, 10:47 p.m.(1/8/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Yasmine
Tell me how that goes for you. You're impossible not to like.
Written By Alis
Jan. 22, 2018, 7:23 p.m.(1/8/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Khanne
You asked for a happy memory, and I am glad to oblige. It can be difficult to remember the positive things when you're overshadowed by grief. But it's important not to forget these things. And just seeing the request reminded me of of a bright, shining moment I was able to share with my eldest brother Vance.
I'd finally convinced my father to let me train to be a Knight (read: I yelled and screamed at him until he caved - it took a really long time), and the day had come that I was to be sent to Arx. I thought maybe it was some kind of punishment to send me so far away when I had perfectly capable elder brothers to teach me. And, very nervous about being trained under Lord Commander Dayne. I couldn't really argue with his decision, despite those warring feelings. And as usual, father was busy seeing to matters of the fealty. So it was Vance who made sure I was packed and ready to go, escorting me to the gates where the retinue of guards waited.
Before helping me astride the horse that would carry me into that new and exhausting life though, he stopped to place a small object in my hand and then curled my fingers around it tightly.
"Alis." he told me, leaning forward as if he were about to share some family secret nobody should hear about. "I asked father if I could take this from the things mother left for us, but he doesn't know I intended to give it to you. So this will stay between the two of us? And maybe Valen, and Tabitha, and Edain... everyone but Prince Radley."
He knew that would prompt a smile from me, and I laughingly agreed to keep this scandalous little secret between us and everyone except my poor father. Who absolutely knew anyway, because nothing happened in that manor without him knowing of it. It was something of an open joke between us all to pretend we'd pulled one over on him.
Anyway, as I unfurled my hand, there was a ring there. A ring of silver and ruby, that fanned out at the top so that it went from nearly the knuckle to the first finger joint with the stone near the top. And the engravings on it looked much like one might find on a Knight's armor, prompting me to look up in confusion at him. Jewelry? What?
I don't think he'd ever laughed quite as loudly at any of my expressions as he did at my puzzlement then. But, he explained that it was the ring our mother was granted when she was Knighted. And that the engravings were the same as was found on the armor she wore as a Knight of Redwall.
"Tabitha didn't choose to be a Knight, but you have. And so this ring is passed to you. And the first of your female children who will be a Knight. Remember that she would be proud of you."
That was the moment I felt truly happy and excited about my new adventure. A small gesture, but to someone who never really got to know her mother, I treasure it as one of the happiest memories I have of Vance and I.
I'd finally convinced my father to let me train to be a Knight (read: I yelled and screamed at him until he caved - it took a really long time), and the day had come that I was to be sent to Arx. I thought maybe it was some kind of punishment to send me so far away when I had perfectly capable elder brothers to teach me. And, very nervous about being trained under Lord Commander Dayne. I couldn't really argue with his decision, despite those warring feelings. And as usual, father was busy seeing to matters of the fealty. So it was Vance who made sure I was packed and ready to go, escorting me to the gates where the retinue of guards waited.
Before helping me astride the horse that would carry me into that new and exhausting life though, he stopped to place a small object in my hand and then curled my fingers around it tightly.
"Alis." he told me, leaning forward as if he were about to share some family secret nobody should hear about. "I asked father if I could take this from the things mother left for us, but he doesn't know I intended to give it to you. So this will stay between the two of us? And maybe Valen, and Tabitha, and Edain... everyone but Prince Radley."
He knew that would prompt a smile from me, and I laughingly agreed to keep this scandalous little secret between us and everyone except my poor father. Who absolutely knew anyway, because nothing happened in that manor without him knowing of it. It was something of an open joke between us all to pretend we'd pulled one over on him.
Anyway, as I unfurled my hand, there was a ring there. A ring of silver and ruby, that fanned out at the top so that it went from nearly the knuckle to the first finger joint with the stone near the top. And the engravings on it looked much like one might find on a Knight's armor, prompting me to look up in confusion at him. Jewelry? What?
I don't think he'd ever laughed quite as loudly at any of my expressions as he did at my puzzlement then. But, he explained that it was the ring our mother was granted when she was Knighted. And that the engravings were the same as was found on the armor she wore as a Knight of Redwall.
"Tabitha didn't choose to be a Knight, but you have. And so this ring is passed to you. And the first of your female children who will be a Knight. Remember that she would be proud of you."
That was the moment I felt truly happy and excited about my new adventure. A small gesture, but to someone who never really got to know her mother, I treasure it as one of the happiest memories I have of Vance and I.
Written By Joscelin
Jan. 22, 2018, 6:48 p.m.(1/8/1008 AR)
For the first time ever, someone has given me a dragonweep to work with. Dragonweep! Wolbrand worked with it once or twice, let me help him, but it's different now, this is my shop, my work. I'm honored and terrified. I mean to go forward with care.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.