Written By Nash
Sept. 19, 2017, 10:57 a.m.(3/28/1007 AR)
A wise man asked recently what I valued most, and after some thought I was forced to admit that it was freedom. One would think that this is an easy choice, that everyone longs in their heart to be free, but that's not so. Some find freedom scant solace when they deal with the consequences of others having the freedom to make terrible choices that end in tragedy.
I walked by a man in mourning, whose grief had made him lose faith. He asked what so many ask, "If the gods are good, why did they let that tragedy happen? Why does evil exist?" It is the hardest question for the Faith to answer, and I believe there is scant comfort in it. For what if the answer is that the gods -are- doing all they can? That this world, with all its flaws, with all its tragedies and heartbreaks, with all its evil and darkness... is what is left after they spend their energy fighting evil, and man is left with the freedom to act? It is not comforting, no, but it is the cost of freedom. The world, for better or for worse, is what we make it.
I walked by a man in mourning, whose grief had made him lose faith. He asked what so many ask, "If the gods are good, why did they let that tragedy happen? Why does evil exist?" It is the hardest question for the Faith to answer, and I believe there is scant comfort in it. For what if the answer is that the gods -are- doing all they can? That this world, with all its flaws, with all its tragedies and heartbreaks, with all its evil and darkness... is what is left after they spend their energy fighting evil, and man is left with the freedom to act? It is not comforting, no, but it is the cost of freedom. The world, for better or for worse, is what we make it.
Written By Alarissa
Sept. 19, 2017, 8:05 a.m.(3/28/1007 AR)
There is a story I have heard - a scholar from Blancbier told it to me while I was looking for something, to pass the time. It was about a young woman who was visited by the gods. She was told that in order to save the west from the demons of the Reckoning, she would have to become a perfect knight. She was a princess who had never touched a sword before in one version, in another she was a common woman. In a third variation of the story he said, she was already a shining knight. But in all of the variations he told me, she followed the call of the gods. She sought to prove herself, to seek others who could help her save what would become the Oathlands. He told me of the deeds that this woman did, each one noble in heart, ripe with honour and self-sacrifice. How She gave of herself repeatedly. Eventually, her deeds, her nobility and her heart won the love of a foreign king who spoke an ancient pledge to forever save the honourable from evil of the world.
But like all stories, it is a tragic ending. There are no happy ever after. He left to fight a war in a distant land, to fight the demons of the reckoning with his kinsmen by his side while she remained behind, and saved her own lands. She succeeded, so did He. But the cost was his own life. Gravely wounded, his kinsmen slain almost to a man, he returned to her. He told her not to mourn him, but remember him. He told her he gives to her his heart and his courage so that she may see the world as it is meant to be.
The story, it would seem, has fallen out of fashion. One no longer tells it to their children to remind them of the values of chivalry and honour and move to other tales. That saddens me. Love in the time of the reckoning, of overcoming obstacles and striving to be a better person. Part of the story touched close. I will not let the story fade as it has.
But like all stories, it is a tragic ending. There are no happy ever after. He left to fight a war in a distant land, to fight the demons of the reckoning with his kinsmen by his side while she remained behind, and saved her own lands. She succeeded, so did He. But the cost was his own life. Gravely wounded, his kinsmen slain almost to a man, he returned to her. He told her not to mourn him, but remember him. He told her he gives to her his heart and his courage so that she may see the world as it is meant to be.
The story, it would seem, has fallen out of fashion. One no longer tells it to their children to remind them of the values of chivalry and honour and move to other tales. That saddens me. Love in the time of the reckoning, of overcoming obstacles and striving to be a better person. Part of the story touched close. I will not let the story fade as it has.
Written By Orazio
Sept. 18, 2017, 10:17 p.m.(3/27/1007 AR)
To the Faithful Reader:
One of the foundations of Arvani culture is personal honor, and men and women are known by their ability to keep their word. The strongest warrior is nothing but a liability and a disgrace, if they have not honor. The most powerful lord, nothing but a marauder and a tyrant if they cannot be bound by their given word.
We have many tales and stories of those who have faced deprivation, darkness, and great loss for the sake of not breaking their sworn word, but few are those in any age who have the ability to actually endure such travails in the face of convenience and temptation. Some might argue that this reflects good sense, not honor. Is each promise so valuable that it should be held to death, or worse? Perhaps not. But at the same time, how else might we know the integrity of a man or woman, of their will and how high they hold their own honor, if not by their ability to keep their own oaths?
(A variant to this question might exist, on how we might know the righteous and the clever if not by the oaths they choose to swear themselves to, as well. Certainly, my homeland favors clever heroes who swear the oaths that benefit them the most, and their enemies the least, and consider it rather your own fault if you do not pay attention to what is sworn (or not sworn). But even in the Lyceum, the cleverest have made a foolish promise or two in their time. We carry these regrets with us, even as we do our best to mitigate their consequences without proving forsworn.)
Should swearing a foolish oath be our doom? Should we allow a wasteful or damaging promise to drag us down to death? I'm not sure there's one answer for that. If one were to say "no, you should not hold an oath that would surely doom you", then I think we would soon find that the number of people who redefine "inconvenient" or "disadvantageous" to "certain doom" would increase dramatically. But if one were to say "yes, your honor must always come first, and it is always better death than to be forsworn", then would not risk empowering those who take advantage of the young, the foolish, and the trusting? Better to encourage wisdom and forethought before swearing yourself to any oath, and understand that some day, there may come a time when you must break your oath for principles higher than personal honor - but that it is still an indelible mark against your honor to do so. A hard and bitter pill to swallow, but perhaps a necessary one.
All of this, of course, a rambling reflection on someone I met today, who struggles with the keeping of an oath which restricts their options and abilities in ways both inconvenient and potentially dangerous, but who keeps it nonetheless. It is a stand which I can, and do, respect.
One of the foundations of Arvani culture is personal honor, and men and women are known by their ability to keep their word. The strongest warrior is nothing but a liability and a disgrace, if they have not honor. The most powerful lord, nothing but a marauder and a tyrant if they cannot be bound by their given word.
We have many tales and stories of those who have faced deprivation, darkness, and great loss for the sake of not breaking their sworn word, but few are those in any age who have the ability to actually endure such travails in the face of convenience and temptation. Some might argue that this reflects good sense, not honor. Is each promise so valuable that it should be held to death, or worse? Perhaps not. But at the same time, how else might we know the integrity of a man or woman, of their will and how high they hold their own honor, if not by their ability to keep their own oaths?
(A variant to this question might exist, on how we might know the righteous and the clever if not by the oaths they choose to swear themselves to, as well. Certainly, my homeland favors clever heroes who swear the oaths that benefit them the most, and their enemies the least, and consider it rather your own fault if you do not pay attention to what is sworn (or not sworn). But even in the Lyceum, the cleverest have made a foolish promise or two in their time. We carry these regrets with us, even as we do our best to mitigate their consequences without proving forsworn.)
Should swearing a foolish oath be our doom? Should we allow a wasteful or damaging promise to drag us down to death? I'm not sure there's one answer for that. If one were to say "no, you should not hold an oath that would surely doom you", then I think we would soon find that the number of people who redefine "inconvenient" or "disadvantageous" to "certain doom" would increase dramatically. But if one were to say "yes, your honor must always come first, and it is always better death than to be forsworn", then would not risk empowering those who take advantage of the young, the foolish, and the trusting? Better to encourage wisdom and forethought before swearing yourself to any oath, and understand that some day, there may come a time when you must break your oath for principles higher than personal honor - but that it is still an indelible mark against your honor to do so. A hard and bitter pill to swallow, but perhaps a necessary one.
All of this, of course, a rambling reflection on someone I met today, who struggles with the keeping of an oath which restricts their options and abilities in ways both inconvenient and potentially dangerous, but who keeps it nonetheless. It is a stand which I can, and do, respect.
Written By Aksel
Sept. 18, 2017, 9:35 p.m.(3/27/1007 AR)
I have been trying to figure out what to say about my latest adventure and honestly, I can't think of a thing to say other then that I would do it all again. Maybe not get swiped at by that duck bear thing. That I could do with out.
And I'm sure the healers could do without it as well.
And I'm sure the healers could do without it as well.
Written By Driskell
Sept. 18, 2017, 8:25 p.m.(3/27/1007 AR)
We must celebrate both good and bad which happens in our lifetimes. How would we ever be able to enjoy and remember fondly the warmth on our faces from a golden summer's day if we never had the opportunity to experience the cutting bite of a dark winter's storm? If we are hungry, do we not eat? If we're thirsty, do we not drink? Life is meant for experiences which in turn create more experiences for those in our circle and on and on the ripples go. We must come to terms and embrace duality, turning each dark fear and passion into a shining pearl of self-mastery.
The gods do not give us impossible challenges, they merely set the stage so that we might take our places in the epic story that we are all a part of. Without these challenges, without hardship, there would be nothing to celebrate or give thanks for.
We must find the blessing in every curse and meet every challenge with a focused mind. May we evolve through all experiences.
The gods do not give us impossible challenges, they merely set the stage so that we might take our places in the epic story that we are all a part of. Without these challenges, without hardship, there would be nothing to celebrate or give thanks for.
We must find the blessing in every curse and meet every challenge with a focused mind. May we evolve through all experiences.
Written By Margot
Sept. 18, 2017, 8:13 p.m.(3/27/1007 AR)
I am tired of my luck running out.
I should like for once, just once, for my luck to run in.
I should like for once, just once, for my luck to run in.
Written By Quenia
Sept. 18, 2017, 8:05 p.m.(3/27/1007 AR)
Last week Lucita and I worked very hard to put together all the details for the wine tasting event to benefit House Thrax. I think it all came together rather smashingly. We hired Whisper House for entertainment, and showcased our rose hip and raspberry wines, and re-released our special edition Daylight wine - the one with the citrusy undercurrents, with pears and tart apples.
Master Cesare and Mistress Nisaa both performed admirably, with Lucita filling in here and there with musical interludes. The event was well attended, and even King Alaric came! He donated a very generous 150 economic writs to the cause, as well as bought several bottles of wine. And, through the support of the event, I also managed to raise another 250 economic writs on their behalf. I couldn't be more pleased with the show of support from everyone.
I am waiting for key members of House Thrax to come back from defending the Isles of the Maelstrom from the Darkwater that is rising there, before I present them with the proceeds from our event. I hope that they find they can put them to good use.
I am already looking forward to the next thing to work on. Keeping busy with this event has helped push away the sadness that I often feel over the loss of my brothers. Grief sucks, sometimes. So many people seemed so pleased with events being held in Domus Igniseri again that I hate to disappoint them, so hopefully we can work on something again soon.
Master Cesare and Mistress Nisaa both performed admirably, with Lucita filling in here and there with musical interludes. The event was well attended, and even King Alaric came! He donated a very generous 150 economic writs to the cause, as well as bought several bottles of wine. And, through the support of the event, I also managed to raise another 250 economic writs on their behalf. I couldn't be more pleased with the show of support from everyone.
I am waiting for key members of House Thrax to come back from defending the Isles of the Maelstrom from the Darkwater that is rising there, before I present them with the proceeds from our event. I hope that they find they can put them to good use.
I am already looking forward to the next thing to work on. Keeping busy with this event has helped push away the sadness that I often feel over the loss of my brothers. Grief sucks, sometimes. So many people seemed so pleased with events being held in Domus Igniseri again that I hate to disappoint them, so hopefully we can work on something again soon.
Written By Daemon
Sept. 18, 2017, 5:01 p.m.(3/26/1007 AR)
I have sworn to be a brothers in arms of the Knights of Solace. An honor no doubt and one I hope to do well by.
Looking for work has been tedious. It seems the city has no shortage of men with good sword arms that are well-armed. Sellsword work isn't as enterprising as I would have hoped, but it may yet be what I turn to in the end. The Valorous Few do have my eye, their leader seems a well-mannered man with plenty of nice words to say as well.
Overall, a man is armed and armored and he has a roof over his head and food on the table. It is a good place to be, no? I should give my thanks to the Gods for their generosity. Excuse me scribe, I've a journey to make...
Looking for work has been tedious. It seems the city has no shortage of men with good sword arms that are well-armed. Sellsword work isn't as enterprising as I would have hoped, but it may yet be what I turn to in the end. The Valorous Few do have my eye, their leader seems a well-mannered man with plenty of nice words to say as well.
Overall, a man is armed and armored and he has a roof over his head and food on the table. It is a good place to be, no? I should give my thanks to the Gods for their generosity. Excuse me scribe, I've a journey to make...
Written By Rey
Sept. 18, 2017, 3:59 p.m.(3/26/1007 AR)
I dreamed of the tunnel again. This time, I went inside.
There was life there, the whole world stretched before my eyes, blue sky, and blue sea, and the place where sea and sky become one, just at the horizon. The world lived by the flickering of a lantern. I saw the goddess there, as well. Beautiful Mangata waited for me in a spear of light, my mother of the sea. I was afraid, and she sang to me. I was unsure, and she kissed me forehead and guided me gently on my way.
There was death there, as well, the kind of death that's an infinite stillness. A mirror stood in the center of the place beyond time, but when I looked into it, it wasn't my face I saw.
Except it wasn't a dream. Was it?
There was life there, the whole world stretched before my eyes, blue sky, and blue sea, and the place where sea and sky become one, just at the horizon. The world lived by the flickering of a lantern. I saw the goddess there, as well. Beautiful Mangata waited for me in a spear of light, my mother of the sea. I was afraid, and she sang to me. I was unsure, and she kissed me forehead and guided me gently on my way.
There was death there, as well, the kind of death that's an infinite stillness. A mirror stood in the center of the place beyond time, but when I looked into it, it wasn't my face I saw.
Except it wasn't a dream. Was it?
Written By Cesare
Sept. 18, 2017, 3:40 p.m.(3/26/1007 AR)
"The Promise" by Cesare Whisper
Once I barefoot walked the streets of Setarco, and although it was nearly dawn the flagstones remained warm with the memory of the sun, despite the callings of the moon and her stars.
I thought to myself as I walked, "How many footfalls have been left behind, how many memories discarded on these streets? What joyous dancing? What steps guided by shame, or anger, or misanthropic intent?
Like a shade I walked with those memories, passing in between them as the time in between approached with the lightening of the sky.
I danced to songs long forgotten, with people celebrating new lives- births and weddings and happy times. I walked with bowed head among those who wished not to be seen, who's shame and self-loathing was remembered only by barefooted steps on paving stones. With the angry my soul raged and frothed and rioted- upset at everything and nothing in equal measures. I hid with thieves and searched with guards.
Each step of Memory a sip from an endless cup. Each sip different- but it was all from the same cup.
Eventually, I found myself standing on the pier near the edge of the water, facing outward towards a rising sun. A sailor came to me and asked why I stood on the docks in bare feet staring towards the coming dawn.
"I'm waiting," Said I.
"For what?" He asked.
I answered: "The fulfillment of Memory's Promise."
Once I barefoot walked the streets of Setarco, and although it was nearly dawn the flagstones remained warm with the memory of the sun, despite the callings of the moon and her stars.
I thought to myself as I walked, "How many footfalls have been left behind, how many memories discarded on these streets? What joyous dancing? What steps guided by shame, or anger, or misanthropic intent?
Like a shade I walked with those memories, passing in between them as the time in between approached with the lightening of the sky.
I danced to songs long forgotten, with people celebrating new lives- births and weddings and happy times. I walked with bowed head among those who wished not to be seen, who's shame and self-loathing was remembered only by barefooted steps on paving stones. With the angry my soul raged and frothed and rioted- upset at everything and nothing in equal measures. I hid with thieves and searched with guards.
Each step of Memory a sip from an endless cup. Each sip different- but it was all from the same cup.
Eventually, I found myself standing on the pier near the edge of the water, facing outward towards a rising sun. A sailor came to me and asked why I stood on the docks in bare feet staring towards the coming dawn.
"I'm waiting," Said I.
"For what?" He asked.
I answered: "The fulfillment of Memory's Promise."
Written By Morrighan
Sept. 18, 2017, 3:39 p.m.(3/26/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Freja
Even if I don't know how to sail I still would have thefted a boat. I should see about getting you your own barrel of whiskey whenever you come home.
Written By Aella
Sept. 18, 2017, 3:19 p.m.(3/26/1007 AR)
Who the fuck is House Marin?
Yeah, we killed a bunch of 'em, and crazy fucks sank their own ships. More to the point let the dark water eat them. Which is unsettling, don't let that shit touch your ships, or you'll disappear quicker then you can blink. And by disappear I mean puff you no longer exist or some shite.
Fucking crazy shite.
Yeah, we killed a bunch of 'em, and crazy fucks sank their own ships. More to the point let the dark water eat them. Which is unsettling, don't let that shit touch your ships, or you'll disappear quicker then you can blink. And by disappear I mean puff you no longer exist or some shite.
Fucking crazy shite.
Written By Eirene
Sept. 18, 2017, 12:21 p.m.(3/26/1007 AR)
Was I at the Silent Masque?
You'll never know.
*The scribe reports she cackled in amusement but wasn't sure how to transcribe that*
You'll never know.
*The scribe reports she cackled in amusement but wasn't sure how to transcribe that*
Written By Cesare
Sept. 18, 2017, noon(3/26/1007 AR)
Light and shadow dance, always touching but never truly part of one another. This is an interaction we can see- but what if there is an unseen interaction. What of the invisible light and darkness within man's heart and soul? Do these things interplay more fully? Glide and mix together, muddying the waters?
Or are they like oil and water, never truly mixing? Could it be more like a tapestry, dark and light threads that together create a rich tapestry and alone are nothing but strands on the wind-
I think, however, it is very much like a musical composition. A soundscape of melodic texture and dissonant harmonies. An ever-playing flow of sound pleasant and terrible, both. Heights and depths.
The Agony and The Ecstasy of the soul is surely a song.
Or are they like oil and water, never truly mixing? Could it be more like a tapestry, dark and light threads that together create a rich tapestry and alone are nothing but strands on the wind-
I think, however, it is very much like a musical composition. A soundscape of melodic texture and dissonant harmonies. An ever-playing flow of sound pleasant and terrible, both. Heights and depths.
The Agony and The Ecstasy of the soul is surely a song.
Written By Vesper
Sept. 18, 2017, 11:44 a.m.(3/26/1007 AR)
[ From the journal of Vesper Nighthawk, Sister-at-Arms for the Knights of Solace: ]
Addendum: ... And with plans to be dispatched already. How prompt. Where is the Maelstrom ...? Oh. Well, fuck me sideways.
Addendum: ... And with plans to be dispatched already. How prompt. Where is the Maelstrom ...? Oh. Well, fuck me sideways.
Written By Cesare
Sept. 18, 2017, 11:29 a.m.(3/26/1007 AR)
Relationship Note on Lucita
My fellow musician, a beautiful woman in her own right. She is, perhaps, a bit unsure of herself- but that isn't anything truly unusual among artists or those of youth. She is certainly worthy of continued interest.
Written By Vesper
Sept. 18, 2017, 11:12 a.m.(3/26/1007 AR)
[ From the journal of Vesper Nighthawk, Sister-at-Arms for the Knights of Solace: ]
To the Journals, the truth, for I could never stomach a lie. I came to the capital city on a hope. Perhaps it's one of the only whims that I have entertained since youth. When I was doing nothing more than riding a stodgy, stubborn pony with a branch in one hand and a cooking pot over my head. Those games of playing at knights with the children of the household. Slaying dragons, finding treasure, defending the innocent from evil. Always, the last point was the reason I was drawn into those games. I always saw myself first as a defender - Sir Vesper. Not Lady Vesper. Yes, I knew that the proper term was Dame. I always insisted upon Sir for no other reason than contrariness. An unfortunate character trait that I carry to some degree these days.
I came to the city on a hope. The hope that I would meet my mother's kin, take a knee, and offer my blade to them in service. However, a Sword without a sword seems like a jest without a punchline. A riddle without an answer. I find the kindness of Arx's people to be surprising, the hospitality offered to the newly traveled is - it's inspiring. Between thanking Gild for the opportunities, she has provided me, the friends that I have made, I learned about the needs of the Knights of Solace. Within me, that set ablaze that fire of hope - honest, sincere hope.
That, I have discovered, is my calling. I sent a messenger to my Father in Stonedeep with my intentions. I am my father's only child. Due to my contrariness, I knew that I would never wed for political gain nor produce heirs. I have no need to remain bound to my nobility. My merit will carry on in the deeds I do, not the name I bear. I will learn what I need to do to prepare myself to take my vows and join the Faith. I understand all the risks involved. To be a Knight of Solace. To be a knight is to accept danger. To lay down my life in the defense of the innocent - Mercies, travelers, pilgrims - from evils ordinary and extraordinary.
Bring it on.
Only, I still need a sword ... (You know who you are.)
To the Journals, the truth, for I could never stomach a lie. I came to the capital city on a hope. Perhaps it's one of the only whims that I have entertained since youth. When I was doing nothing more than riding a stodgy, stubborn pony with a branch in one hand and a cooking pot over my head. Those games of playing at knights with the children of the household. Slaying dragons, finding treasure, defending the innocent from evil. Always, the last point was the reason I was drawn into those games. I always saw myself first as a defender - Sir Vesper. Not Lady Vesper. Yes, I knew that the proper term was Dame. I always insisted upon Sir for no other reason than contrariness. An unfortunate character trait that I carry to some degree these days.
I came to the city on a hope. The hope that I would meet my mother's kin, take a knee, and offer my blade to them in service. However, a Sword without a sword seems like a jest without a punchline. A riddle without an answer. I find the kindness of Arx's people to be surprising, the hospitality offered to the newly traveled is - it's inspiring. Between thanking Gild for the opportunities, she has provided me, the friends that I have made, I learned about the needs of the Knights of Solace. Within me, that set ablaze that fire of hope - honest, sincere hope.
That, I have discovered, is my calling. I sent a messenger to my Father in Stonedeep with my intentions. I am my father's only child. Due to my contrariness, I knew that I would never wed for political gain nor produce heirs. I have no need to remain bound to my nobility. My merit will carry on in the deeds I do, not the name I bear. I will learn what I need to do to prepare myself to take my vows and join the Faith. I understand all the risks involved. To be a Knight of Solace. To be a knight is to accept danger. To lay down my life in the defense of the innocent - Mercies, travelers, pilgrims - from evils ordinary and extraordinary.
Bring it on.
Only, I still need a sword ... (You know who you are.)
Written By Regla
Sept. 18, 2017, 10:37 a.m.(3/26/1007 AR)
It's never easy losing men, but part of me wants to rationalize it by saying the few now to save the many in the end. But is that really a good justification? I'm not sure. It was a good reason at the time, and one I stand by now, then, and always. Would I do it again given the circumstances? Without hesitation. We got what we were looking for, although I still have a lot of unanswered questions....hopefully the answers will be had.
Written By Sparte
Sept. 18, 2017, 10:33 a.m.(3/26/1007 AR)
Thrax decor is everything I was promised. Mostly the promises were made by people who didn't like me, or wanted to scare me. The taxidermy is unpleasant, the murals are hideous, and that is just what is in the common areas.
Yet I learned something interesting. This wasn't originally Thrax decor. I'll be pushing this theory with some of the Thrax higher ups. If by some minor miracle they believe me, this island may become a far more pleasant place to visit.
Yet I learned something interesting. This wasn't originally Thrax decor. I'll be pushing this theory with some of the Thrax higher ups. If by some minor miracle they believe me, this island may become a far more pleasant place to visit.
Written By Freja
Sept. 18, 2017, 10:17 a.m.(3/26/1007 AR)
I should be dead, but I suppose I have a touch of Rathlander in me after all. There wasn't a ringing in the ears, seeing red or anything...just an odd rush of adrenaline and even more peculiar calm/focus.
But fuck if it didn't hurt.
Losses incurred, but weapons secured.
But fuck if it didn't hurt.
Losses incurred, but weapons secured.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.