Written By Wynna
Jan. 3, 2018, 1:55 a.m.(11/22/1007 AR)
So many love letters gone unread. War's simple, pithy tragedies never really change over time, do they? I wonder if the sailors preparing for war will have received theirs before they ship off.
Written By Sameera
Jan. 2, 2018, 10:58 p.m.(11/22/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Eleyna
Just tell those 'witty' people they are annoying or threaten to smash them with your hammer.. or stab them if you have a stabbing weapon. Although, threatening to smash my spouse's head in with my hammer has not proven to be working since he still does the touching thing. But you're a High Lord, it'll probably be more effective than my bitching at my spouse who knows me too well.
Written By Percephon
Jan. 2, 2018, 10:15 p.m.(11/22/1007 AR)
From the Rose of Woodstone Hall, an adventure novel:
The sharp sound of a scream tore the curtain of tranquility from outside the carriage. Then there was a hard stop, a jolt which caused all of the horses to stop in their tracks, and the sole passenger inside the carriage lurched - gasping with surprise. Lifting the curtain, a young woman with cobalt-blue eyes named Dinah glanced out to call to the driver of the carriage, but she saw three shadowy figures approaching quickly on horseback at frightening speed.
An arrow whizzed through the air and caught in the shoulder of the driver, who cried out in pain and fell out of his seat in the carriage. The reins slipped from his hands, and the horses started to rear back in blind-eyed fear of the uncertain. In order to keep the horses in control, Dinah lunged for the doorway, intent on climbing into the driver's vacated seat.
"Hold tight," she told herself, "I've got this --"
Her rallying cry was cut short when another arrow shot by within inches and lodged itself into the wood of the carriage, sending splinters flying. All this did was to make Dinah all the more determined to escape these unknown brigands. Her knuckles went white on the reins but her grin was confident. She had the courage to do what needed to be done and did it quickly, flicking the reins to start the horses forward at a breakneck pace.
As she glanced back, she could see the faces of the wild-eyed mad brigands as they relentlessly began to chase down the carriage. She sneered and turned back, focused, as she clung to the reins of the carriage that was slowly veering out of control. Her heart lept within her throat, but she knew that she would make it because she believed that she would.
From up ahead in the road, she spied the figure of another horse. Seated impeccably in the saddle was the petite figure of a masked woman in rose-red, chocolate brown hair done into an elaborate style. She spurred the horse forward, and Dinah watched as horse and rider blurred past the racing carriage. The masked figure pulled something from her hair, two wands of bright shining steel --
-- one by one the brigands were stabbed and knocked from their horses --
-- Again, Dinah's heart lept --
-- The masked rider blazed past the carriage again, looking toward the Dinah as she slowed the carriage to a manageable pace. Jade green eyes met cobalt blue amid the dwindling commotion. The masked rider seemed to have an aura of mystery and energy about her, which was both intriguing and frightening.
"You did well, messere," complimented the rose-red rider.
"You did pretty good too," added Dinah, grinning. "I had it in hand, but, thank you!"
"Never doubted it for a moment. Shall we ride to the next town together?"
"We can. Is there anyway that I can learn your name? I mean, I get the need to be the masked heroine of mystique, but it's a pretty big mouthful --"
"Jocelle, The Rose of Woodstone Hall."
The sharp sound of a scream tore the curtain of tranquility from outside the carriage. Then there was a hard stop, a jolt which caused all of the horses to stop in their tracks, and the sole passenger inside the carriage lurched - gasping with surprise. Lifting the curtain, a young woman with cobalt-blue eyes named Dinah glanced out to call to the driver of the carriage, but she saw three shadowy figures approaching quickly on horseback at frightening speed.
An arrow whizzed through the air and caught in the shoulder of the driver, who cried out in pain and fell out of his seat in the carriage. The reins slipped from his hands, and the horses started to rear back in blind-eyed fear of the uncertain. In order to keep the horses in control, Dinah lunged for the doorway, intent on climbing into the driver's vacated seat.
"Hold tight," she told herself, "I've got this --"
Her rallying cry was cut short when another arrow shot by within inches and lodged itself into the wood of the carriage, sending splinters flying. All this did was to make Dinah all the more determined to escape these unknown brigands. Her knuckles went white on the reins but her grin was confident. She had the courage to do what needed to be done and did it quickly, flicking the reins to start the horses forward at a breakneck pace.
As she glanced back, she could see the faces of the wild-eyed mad brigands as they relentlessly began to chase down the carriage. She sneered and turned back, focused, as she clung to the reins of the carriage that was slowly veering out of control. Her heart lept within her throat, but she knew that she would make it because she believed that she would.
From up ahead in the road, she spied the figure of another horse. Seated impeccably in the saddle was the petite figure of a masked woman in rose-red, chocolate brown hair done into an elaborate style. She spurred the horse forward, and Dinah watched as horse and rider blurred past the racing carriage. The masked figure pulled something from her hair, two wands of bright shining steel --
-- one by one the brigands were stabbed and knocked from their horses --
-- Again, Dinah's heart lept --
-- The masked rider blazed past the carriage again, looking toward the Dinah as she slowed the carriage to a manageable pace. Jade green eyes met cobalt blue amid the dwindling commotion. The masked rider seemed to have an aura of mystery and energy about her, which was both intriguing and frightening.
"You did well, messere," complimented the rose-red rider.
"You did pretty good too," added Dinah, grinning. "I had it in hand, but, thank you!"
"Never doubted it for a moment. Shall we ride to the next town together?"
"We can. Is there anyway that I can learn your name? I mean, I get the need to be the masked heroine of mystique, but it's a pretty big mouthful --"
"Jocelle, The Rose of Woodstone Hall."
Written By Eleyna
Jan. 2, 2018, 10:07 p.m.(11/22/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Joscelin
Jiacomo is Lycene. He cannot help himself.
Written By Joscelin
Jan. 2, 2018, 9:51 p.m.(11/22/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Eleyna
Just so you know, using your distinguished gentleman manservant to give me things is -cheating-. I'm convinced the man hasn't the faintest idea how dashing he is, and I know he only flirts because it makes me blush, but he's such a weakness! How can that charisma exist in one person is just... impossible. And -wrong-. And distracting!
Do you know he waggles his eyebrows and grins at me when he brings me one of your gifts or missives? And then he compliments the scones he steals on his way out the door.
Well, yes, they're rather for everyone but that's not the point is it NO IT ISN'T-
Do you know he waggles his eyebrows and grins at me when he brings me one of your gifts or missives? And then he compliments the scones he steals on his way out the door.
Well, yes, they're rather for everyone but that's not the point is it NO IT ISN'T-
Written By Percephon
Jan. 2, 2018, 9:26 p.m.(11/22/1007 AR)
Taken from the Treatise of Internal Alchemy, a draft:
Among the best known goals of the alchemist was, perhaps, the transmutation of common metals into gold or silver. Better known is plant alchemy, or the creation of panaceas or poisons (or various other remedies that, supposedly, can be made to cure any ailment or cause one to suffer indefinitely) and the discovery of a universal solvent (ah, theories.) Although these are not the only uses for the discipline (how many perfumes can someone make, truly), they are the ones most documented and well-known. I am more prone to argue that the transmutation of lead into gold is more analogy - for the transmutation of the physical body (lead) into the spiritual body (gold) with the goal of attaining ... well.
Among the best known goals of the alchemist was, perhaps, the transmutation of common metals into gold or silver. Better known is plant alchemy, or the creation of panaceas or poisons (or various other remedies that, supposedly, can be made to cure any ailment or cause one to suffer indefinitely) and the discovery of a universal solvent (ah, theories.) Although these are not the only uses for the discipline (how many perfumes can someone make, truly), they are the ones most documented and well-known. I am more prone to argue that the transmutation of lead into gold is more analogy - for the transmutation of the physical body (lead) into the spiritual body (gold) with the goal of attaining ... well.
Written By Lucita
Jan. 2, 2018, 9:09 p.m.(11/22/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Caspian
My second spar. Lost it too, but held my own a goodly length of time and managed to administer more than tiny nicks and scratches this time. Thank you Master Caspian for the spar.
Written By Edain
Jan. 2, 2018, 8:37 p.m.(11/22/1007 AR)
I think Heroes very much exist. Because Heroes are very flawed, very human. A Hero makes mistakes, does stupid things and regrets them later, makes a fool of themselves, but when they are at their lowest point find the will to do the right thing.
A Hero is not someone that never makes a mistake, a Hero is someone that does their damnedest to fix the mistakes they make. I think it is not that Heroes are rare so much that we sometimes take for granted the ones we see everyday.
A Hero is not someone that never makes a mistake, a Hero is someone that does their damnedest to fix the mistakes they make. I think it is not that Heroes are rare so much that we sometimes take for granted the ones we see everyday.
Written By Joscelin
Jan. 2, 2018, 8:25 p.m.(11/22/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Mae
Lest anyone forget, I too am here to be the ear and mouth of the commoners.
Written By Shard
Jan. 2, 2018, 8:20 p.m.(11/22/1007 AR)
Heroes don't exist. I believe that, firmly. Heroes are what we put in stories, but in reality, every person is flawed, and expecting otherwise leads to problems. Disappointment. Anger. Mistakes. Inflated egos. People are always people in the end.
But...now and then I learn something I didn't know about people I never knew, and it's the kind of thing that makes me regret that I was never able to know them.
But...now and then I learn something I didn't know about people I never knew, and it's the kind of thing that makes me regret that I was never able to know them.
Written By Mydas
Jan. 2, 2018, 8:07 p.m.(11/22/1007 AR)
The Silent Reflections have always been a source of unease, even fear, among visitors to the Shrine. To many, they are a strange and unfamiliar sight, silent individuals clad in the Mirrormask, moving without word, offering nothing but the lessons they failed to heed, the fate of the criminals and heretics, when not outright killed by the Templars. To some, they are a test that would-be Scholars must pass, must contemplate, as their fate should they fail their duties and break their oath.
I've seen many of these prospects try to engage the Silent Reflections, attempting to give them some humanity that they fail to find upon the reflected surfaces of their masks. Their inevitable failure ever disheartens them, and then they do everything they can to try to look away, to ignore them. It's too easy, you see, to picture oneself in their place. With their mask, it is child's play for the mind to imagine being in their place, having one's writing hand cut off as well as their tongue, to be severed from part of one's humanity.
They fear it, and when their thoughts grow too much, they come to me, or one of my fellow Reflections. No doubt desiring the comfort of a voice not their own. It's usually a short-lived relief, however, for it is ever the duty of the Mirrormask to offer a Mirror with which one can confront their flaws and passions, the Dark as to the Light.
I've been asked to answer plenty of moral conundrums. What if a Scholar comes upon knowledge that could save a person's life, if they were to break their oath. Should they do it? What if it would save a child's life? The King's? The Dominus'? What if, with that broken oath, they could save the Compact itself?
It is then that I usually indicate the nearest Silent Reflection, and remark that they might be one who were faced with such a choice. And choose they did.
It's something that Scholars tend to forget. The Silent Reflections are not necessarily merely criminals, heretics, and those who failed to keep their oath. Sometimes it is no failure. Sometimes it is a choice made.
And as ever, it is a choice that comes with consequences.
I've seen many of these prospects try to engage the Silent Reflections, attempting to give them some humanity that they fail to find upon the reflected surfaces of their masks. Their inevitable failure ever disheartens them, and then they do everything they can to try to look away, to ignore them. It's too easy, you see, to picture oneself in their place. With their mask, it is child's play for the mind to imagine being in their place, having one's writing hand cut off as well as their tongue, to be severed from part of one's humanity.
They fear it, and when their thoughts grow too much, they come to me, or one of my fellow Reflections. No doubt desiring the comfort of a voice not their own. It's usually a short-lived relief, however, for it is ever the duty of the Mirrormask to offer a Mirror with which one can confront their flaws and passions, the Dark as to the Light.
I've been asked to answer plenty of moral conundrums. What if a Scholar comes upon knowledge that could save a person's life, if they were to break their oath. Should they do it? What if it would save a child's life? The King's? The Dominus'? What if, with that broken oath, they could save the Compact itself?
It is then that I usually indicate the nearest Silent Reflection, and remark that they might be one who were faced with such a choice. And choose they did.
It's something that Scholars tend to forget. The Silent Reflections are not necessarily merely criminals, heretics, and those who failed to keep their oath. Sometimes it is no failure. Sometimes it is a choice made.
And as ever, it is a choice that comes with consequences.
Written By Mae
Jan. 2, 2018, 7:27 p.m.(11/22/1007 AR)
The oaths between liege and vassal are sacred. This is the fidelity between Limerance and Gloria. A lord guarantees protection and justice.
This is the first Law of Limerance, upon which the whole of the Compact is built.
Do the lords of this land understand this? As news of death spreads, as news of a new enemy spreads, I wonder how many meditate upon these words. When a commoner dies, does it mean a failure, not just to that person, but to Gloria and Limerance both? I'll start crying if I think on such a burden too long.
I do not have vassals. I do not have anyone to protect. My lord is my beloved King. I am infinitely grateful that when frustration and fear and concern for my own life and my family overtakes me that King Alaric takes a moment from his too busy schedule to write me back.
To all those Crownsworn that wonder if their King listens, he does. If anyone needs a more direct route to his ear, I am here to listen and to take concerns to him. That is my job, as Commoners' Councillor.
To all those that are sworn to other lords and other houses, I'll not dare speak on your lords behalf. I will, however, offer my services in speaking to your lord on your behalf.
And to all those lords out there, I ask you: are your vassals protected? Do they know such? Do they feel such?
This is the first Law of Limerance, upon which the whole of the Compact is built.
Do the lords of this land understand this? As news of death spreads, as news of a new enemy spreads, I wonder how many meditate upon these words. When a commoner dies, does it mean a failure, not just to that person, but to Gloria and Limerance both? I'll start crying if I think on such a burden too long.
I do not have vassals. I do not have anyone to protect. My lord is my beloved King. I am infinitely grateful that when frustration and fear and concern for my own life and my family overtakes me that King Alaric takes a moment from his too busy schedule to write me back.
To all those Crownsworn that wonder if their King listens, he does. If anyone needs a more direct route to his ear, I am here to listen and to take concerns to him. That is my job, as Commoners' Councillor.
To all those that are sworn to other lords and other houses, I'll not dare speak on your lords behalf. I will, however, offer my services in speaking to your lord on your behalf.
And to all those lords out there, I ask you: are your vassals protected? Do they know such? Do they feel such?
Written By Bastien
Jan. 2, 2018, 6:59 p.m.(11/22/1007 AR)
There isn't enough silver in the world to convince me to abolish my pettiness.
Written By Silas
Jan. 2, 2018, 6:47 p.m.(11/22/1007 AR)
The struggles of the marginalized are always going to be greater than the struggles of the privileged.
But poverty doesn't abolish pettiness any more than great wealth. Pontificate at your own peril. At the end of the day, it's just as frivolous as bitching about what someone talks about in their spare time.
But poverty doesn't abolish pettiness any more than great wealth. Pontificate at your own peril. At the end of the day, it's just as frivolous as bitching about what someone talks about in their spare time.
Written By Caspian
Jan. 2, 2018, 3:41 p.m.(11/22/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Brady
A fun guy who knows how to fool around!
Written By Orathy
Jan. 2, 2018, 3:23 p.m.(11/20/1007 AR)
You ain't getting a job if no one hires ya... and then ya wonder why people resort to crime.
Before you be thinking what you be thinking, I be house Pravus now eh, but I be knowing what it were like before them.
Before you be thinking what you be thinking, I be house Pravus now eh, but I be knowing what it were like before them.
Written By Mydas
Jan. 2, 2018, 2:42 p.m.(11/20/1007 AR)
I have returned to Arx, and it seems I've missed quite a few things while I remained in Aviaron's Peak. The coming days promise to be busy indeed.
Written By Costas
Jan. 2, 2018, 2:17 p.m.(11/20/1007 AR)
Get a job.
Written By Enyo
Jan. 2, 2018, 1:47 p.m.(11/19/1007 AR)
Several times I've heard this come up today, and I have to say that it amuses me. First, I'll admit it, I was one of those talking about hair color the other night at the Ambassador Salon. First it was used to indicate a particular individual, then it devolved into discussion of what preferences people had towards it.
To my knowledge, and I admit I left shortly after the talk began, it was not a long or even in depth conversation. The sort of momentary frivolity that often helps to make hard times easier to deal with.
I laugh a lot, I take my fun where I can get it, but I feel that if someone is only judging an entire social group by one momentary overheard conversation that I want to suggest to them that they try digging further. Would I judge an entire group by what I witness in a five or ten minute observation at the Murder? No. If I did, I'd name myself a fool for doing so.
None of us, not a single one, is only one dimension, we are not flat automatons that can only do one thing with our entire lives. Everyone should remember that, I think. Those overhearing conversations, and those that also seek to make commentary on others thoughts put to paper. We all are more than mere words.
And to make certain that I retain my frivolous reputation, I shall now go and get thoroughly drunk and run up and down the beach naked.
To my knowledge, and I admit I left shortly after the talk began, it was not a long or even in depth conversation. The sort of momentary frivolity that often helps to make hard times easier to deal with.
I laugh a lot, I take my fun where I can get it, but I feel that if someone is only judging an entire social group by one momentary overheard conversation that I want to suggest to them that they try digging further. Would I judge an entire group by what I witness in a five or ten minute observation at the Murder? No. If I did, I'd name myself a fool for doing so.
None of us, not a single one, is only one dimension, we are not flat automatons that can only do one thing with our entire lives. Everyone should remember that, I think. Those overhearing conversations, and those that also seek to make commentary on others thoughts put to paper. We all are more than mere words.
And to make certain that I retain my frivolous reputation, I shall now go and get thoroughly drunk and run up and down the beach naked.
Written By Corban
Jan. 2, 2018, 1:31 p.m.(11/19/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Leona
I first spoke to Lord Commander Leona Thrax on something of a whim, a combination of a social call and it-can't-hurt-to-ask shot in the dark. I have now found her to be a mentor, a teacher, and a friend. I have done the morning drills with the King's Own; the Lord Commander has run the Gauntlet. (I had a better time, in case you are curious. But she did a climb up the final rope which was better than any I have seen before!)
In some ways, speaking to Leona is like having the great Lord Commander Dayne Valardin's teachings passed down to me. That is an incredible gift, and one I am thankful to her for.
In some ways, speaking to Leona is like having the great Lord Commander Dayne Valardin's teachings passed down to me. That is an incredible gift, and one I am thankful to her for.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.