Written By Haakon
Sept. 26, 2021, 12:38 a.m.(4/9/1016 AR)
I carried off a Lycene wife of noble blood, and wed her at the palace of House Thrax in Arx. They would hail these as accomplishments of a great war chief, until learning that the marriage was negotiated ahead of time with our allies of the Lyceum, and that the Prince of Thrax is our overlord.
I have raided up the Grey River as far as Bastion, and returned with prizes from their great cathedral. This would be the most famous deed of any reaver ever born of my blood, if it were not done to hand these holy prizes humbly back to the Faith in Arx, as we are their obedient allies.
I often wonder what my ancestors would make of my life, my House, and this world.
But they are dead now, and the Wind cares not.
Written By Cesare
Sept. 25, 2021, 11:21 p.m.(4/9/1016 AR)
I had the pleasure of attending also the wedding reception of the Archduchess and Archduke-Consort Velenosa. It was truly a magnificent party, entirely worthy of two individuals of such standing. The newly redecorated Lenosia Labyrinth is marvelous; the Archduchess looked stunning, and the Archduke looked like he was wearing entirely black and gray, as he usually does. Some of the most wonderful party favors I've ever seen, and a guest list to envy. I was very privileged to speak to the Queen and Prince Aindre and was delighted to learn that Prince Aindre is a fan of the performing arts. I hope to see them at an upcoming performance, which is only a little daunting. I think being the focus of Queen Symonesse's radiant smile is more daunting, although daunting in a way which at once impresses the necessity of not disappointing her while also making one feel that they have everything they need within them /not/ to disappoint her. I also found the strangest little bag on the ground, and I am still uncertain if I was meant to find it, or if someone lost it.
Every day that passes I awake hoping to news that those I care for have returned from Bastion safe. As for myself, through sheer luck, skill, the favor of the gods, or all three, no-one was injured in our party. I somehow managed to talk my way into and out of danger, and Brother Oswyn played my captive with a panache which leads me to believe perhaps I should recruit him for the stage. I am truly grateful for the protection of Lady Kiera, Lord Vitalis, Sir Audgrim, and Raja Culler. I would not have been nearly so confident had I not known they were at my back. Onward we march; together we may accomplish much.
Written By Denica
Sept. 25, 2021, 11:10 p.m.(4/9/1016 AR)
The people I love, should know it. And if they don’t? There isn’t much I can say. Love is not in the words we speak but in the absence of them.
Love is a look. It’s a memory. A brush stroke. It is plans for the future. The belief in another. It is the air we breath and the tears that never come. It’s misbehaving; it’s laughing at the sky and screaming at the sea. A beautiful flower, the cut of a blade and drinks at dawn. It is everything.
It’s a pleasure painting you.
Written By Thea
Sept. 25, 2021, 10:32 p.m.(4/9/1016 AR)
Written By Kiera
Sept. 25, 2021, 8:19 p.m.(4/9/1016 AR)
Relationship Note on Richard
Written By Gwenna
Sept. 25, 2021, 6:40 p.m.(4/9/1016 AR)
Written By Viviana
Sept. 25, 2021, 3:10 p.m.(4/9/1016 AR)
Written By Raymesin
Sept. 25, 2021, 11:37 a.m.(4/8/1016 AR)
Some of us have to work for a living, and if I upset the client who booked me months ago there won't be any more silver coming from that direction.
Written By Titus
Sept. 25, 2021, 9:11 a.m.(4/8/1016 AR)
And so after this, I will move to do a rite of cleansing in which I honour each of the gods with prayers and offerings to beseech them. This rite of cleansing I've been thinking on for some time. How heavy the veil has been draped across Arvum casting a shadow over things that should never have been forgotten and now are stolen or lost. How histories became legends, and those legends became fantastical myths and tales of vivid imaginations. How alliances simply were forgotten. How an entire people and empire became Lost, serpents slipped through the tall grass.
How bright truth will be when humanity steps out of the darkened cave and looks upon creation as if seeing a new world.
And what greater threats lurk that the veil was placed to hide minds from.
Written By Lucita
Sept. 25, 2021, 8:44 a.m.(4/8/1016 AR)
Written By Raymesin
Sept. 25, 2021, 7:35 a.m.(4/8/1016 AR)
Written By Gael
Sept. 25, 2021, 3:14 a.m.(4/8/1016 AR)
Writing to you, it has always been a way to let loose some, to speak my mind. To know that someday, sometime in the future where I'll be nothing more than a scattered memory, lost kin of mine may well stumble upon my musings. Learn something, maybe, from the breadth of my failings.
Lately, sadly, I haven't had anything good to write about. Nothing good to remember, full of sadness and regret I'd rather let forget, than to cope with; than to immortalize in these pristine, white sheets your followers are so fond of. I realize it is disingenuous maybe, to come to you only when the tide's on my side and the wind blows at my sails, rather than when the hour is at its darkest, but I'm not keen on putting down defeatist and bleak things. Sometimes they feel as though I'll bring them to life, for I'd rather avoid them, not think on them. If only I could forget. I think that'd be my power, if I ever got to choose. Some folk claim they'd like to fly, others to hold their breath or control the wind, some to sing in such a way they could wake the roots of a tree. I'd choose to forget.
Everything's been feeling wrong and out of place since what happened at the Crypts. The more I seek Lagoma's flame to ward off the cold, the fear, the anxious thoughts, the more it all seeps into my bones. That is what it's been: cold. I don't thaw as easy as I used to, and ever since that thing bit down on my shoulder, it's been making all sorts of queer noises when I stretch, or swing the sword. Comes out of its socket a lot easier, my throwing days are behind me. Maybe my sword days, too, if I test it too much.
The other night I went to some noble reunion. Odd invite, a friend's friend; just to drink, wanted some quiet and thought I had found it, but I didn't. Not the right place for it. Saw a lot of folk dancing, enjoying themselves, and I resented it. I didn't want to see life moving on after all that has happened, all the loss. People forgetting. Drinking. Laughing. It was too much.
Young people all around, noble and commoner alike, bringing their spontaneous good cheer down on me like a sledgehammer everywhere I go. I cannot relate. I am becoming an uncanny, unsettling, and self-absorbed thug at odds with the world, and no matter however many short-wicked joys I allow myself, his face. I cannot erase it from the forefront of my mind. It is there with me when I wake every night, and it haunts my dead-angle when I close my eyes to try and sleep. It is all in my head. Echoes of things I cannot comprehend, swirling in there, taking me for long trips that bring only dizziness and sleeplessness.
And more than that: I am sad. There is an absence inside of me, something missing that's still in the water, not floating but under the sea. Waiting. Calling, maybe.
Either way, that's it from me, Scholar. Would've fit some bits more but, been doing nothing more than rigging since three days back, and my hand's cramping up bad-like. We're going back to Bastion. Some scouting business, denizens looking for answers, and I hope we find them.
And that nothing finds us.
Written By Medeia
Sept. 25, 2021, 3:12 a.m.(4/8/1016 AR)
Relationship Note on Haakon
He truly is remarkable. I wish the whole of the Compact had witnessed the Rite of Gloria.
Written By Medeia
Sept. 25, 2021, 3 a.m.(4/8/1016 AR)
Relationship Note on Titus
Though he was not victorious in the Rite of Gloria against my husband, he maintained dignity, fervor, and honor. His dedication is unquestionable. It is a privilege to have one such as him on your side. Someday, I hope to be able to express my gratitude in a more tangible way. What does one gift an ally?
Written By Haakon
Sept. 25, 2021, 2:33 a.m.(4/8/1016 AR)
"Goddess of valor, hear us!
By your gifts our kin are fed,
By your arts we conquer dread,
For the weak we stand in stead
Whilst toward danger ever tread.
On this the eve of newest strife
Where the gallant will wager life,
Spending free their strength and pain
Fallen Bastion to regain,
Let our deeds of blood and steel
Please ye, Goddess, strong and leal,
That we valiant mortals might
Do great deeds beneath thy sight.
We praise ye, Goddess, now attend
As we to thee our steel psalm send."
Written By Rosalind
Sept. 24, 2021, 8:54 p.m.(4/7/1016 AR)
Written By Rosalind
Sept. 24, 2021, 8:51 p.m.(4/7/1016 AR)
Written By Thea
Sept. 24, 2021, 8:45 p.m.(4/7/1016 AR)
Written By Viviana
Sept. 24, 2021, 8:43 p.m.(4/7/1016 AR)
I am utterly drunk off Saiklands wine, good and strong and smooth with the sort of charm I would expect from a suitor because it swept me right off my feet. A good thing, especially since I will be on my side for a time and all the feather-filled pillows do nothing for the bruised backside where once dignity sat proudly -- as I seemed to have forgotten my seat on a horse, which -- oh, V, it smarts.
I'll not be forgetting that anytime soon. After this, I will sample my protégé Lore's Squid Ink and recall that I made my escort to the Grayson-Velenosa wedding reception chase us ourselves around in circles in that labyrinth -- it was maddeningly fun. All of that running about with Aella and I still forgot about those daggers. Diamondplate's lovely -- but it's still within grasp. The whole of it. The jewelry is artful, the scents are unique, so, those will all get tucked away somewhere.Oh
(I keep my eyes open for more. For better. Not for myself, mind, but for those precious few I desperately want to spoil. Looking at you -- )
Finally. These last couple of missives are so mesmerizing, Scholar. I have read and read them over again, lost in the language of them, with fingertips tracing the loop and curl of scripted words -- like holy scripture, these thoughts -- each describes which color speaks to them. It's art. I would write to them of the midnight rainbow a raven's feathers turn, that iridescent blue that prideful green and that velvet black. Or, I can write it here and savor all of that writing all over again.
I think I will.
Where's the Ink?
Written By Raven
Sept. 24, 2021, 7:35 p.m.(4/7/1016 AR)
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.