Written By Ariel
April 14, 2017, 5:18 p.m.(4/10/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Asger
I shouldn't have been to quick to speak ill of Asger, I just received the fur cloak that I won from him and it is more lovely than I ever imagined it would be!
Written By Orazio
April 14, 2017, 5:05 p.m.(4/10/1006 AR)
To the Faithful Reader:
When I was a much, much younger man, I served as a soldier in the military of Southport. It was expected, certainly, but it was also a source of pride for me. The Saik and the Malvici enjoyed a cordial relationship, and it was considered an honor to train and fight alongside the warriors of the Malvici. From those brave men and women, I learned about many things. Among them, Gloria; the goddess had been a distant, barely understood figure in my youth - the Saiklands are small enough that the border skirmishes rarely touched us. But I remember Sister Grace. She was godsworn, and provided most of the spiritual guidance for my division. She had also been a soldier in her own youth, and proved that one can be devout and also swear like a tavern full of angry sailors. Grey-haired, uncompromising when it came to what mattered, but willing provide counsel when one needed it, and a clonk on the head when one needed that.
I needed both, from time to time.
But although I saw her perform many rituals, prayers, and functions over the years of my service, a sequence of events stands out in my mind, and has always been one of the ways that I came to understand Gloria. It was a far patrol, and we came upon a trading caravan that had been attacked by shavs. They had been butchered, one and all, their bodies laid out in gruesome display, corpses desecrated. The caravan had only one real guard; the rest had been simple traders and their children. The sight filled every soldier with horror...and with fury. Our Captain sent out our scouts, and we followed the trail of the shavs for days, back to their camp. We descended like the wrath of Gloria herself, young men and women filled with fire. The fighting was fierce, but the shavs were ill-trained for a real fight, and we cut their warriors down. I remember, in the midst of the fighting, a young shav girl - maybe just past her first decade - picking up a flaming branch from the bonfire and racing at one of my comrades. We both turned. We both raised our blades in the heat of the battle. And Grace, who had been fighting just as fiercely along with us, struck them aside, before kicking the branch out of the girl's hand and knocking her to the ground and out of the fight.
"But why?" we cried out, after we were victorious, and the noncombatants had been driven from Malvici lands. "They were our enemy, even the child!"
"She weren't your enemy, unless you think a child's a fair fight." She spit to one side. "What I've seen of your bladework says you got an argument, mind."
"Our cause is righteous! Look what they did to our people."
"Ayup, and that's why we fought them. But let me tell you something, from Gloria, to me, to you: Righteous ain't a thing you /are/. It's a thing you /do/. The only thing separating you boys from those shavs is that you've got the Pantheon to guide you, to demand better of you, and they got their damned heresies and blood sacrifices. The moment a soldier ain't god his or her honor, they're nothing but a butcher or a thug. Is that what you wanna be?" She was holding that great blade of hers in a way that suggested it was not a rhetorical question, so we both shook our heads. She grunted. "Then mind what you do, because black acts are black, no matter what name you hold."
Some years later, I was still in Southport, serving the Faith and remembering those words when Southport marched to war against Tor. As the reports came in from the battlefields, and as the soldiers of Southport sought out counsel, prayer, and absolution for the orders they had received under Lucien's command, I learned what it meant for a commander to believe that there was no honor in war, and that nothing mattered but stacking up enough bodies to achieve your goal.
If one believes that there is no honor in war, and thus no honor needed by warriors and commanders, then what is left?
When I was a much, much younger man, I served as a soldier in the military of Southport. It was expected, certainly, but it was also a source of pride for me. The Saik and the Malvici enjoyed a cordial relationship, and it was considered an honor to train and fight alongside the warriors of the Malvici. From those brave men and women, I learned about many things. Among them, Gloria; the goddess had been a distant, barely understood figure in my youth - the Saiklands are small enough that the border skirmishes rarely touched us. But I remember Sister Grace. She was godsworn, and provided most of the spiritual guidance for my division. She had also been a soldier in her own youth, and proved that one can be devout and also swear like a tavern full of angry sailors. Grey-haired, uncompromising when it came to what mattered, but willing provide counsel when one needed it, and a clonk on the head when one needed that.
I needed both, from time to time.
But although I saw her perform many rituals, prayers, and functions over the years of my service, a sequence of events stands out in my mind, and has always been one of the ways that I came to understand Gloria. It was a far patrol, and we came upon a trading caravan that had been attacked by shavs. They had been butchered, one and all, their bodies laid out in gruesome display, corpses desecrated. The caravan had only one real guard; the rest had been simple traders and their children. The sight filled every soldier with horror...and with fury. Our Captain sent out our scouts, and we followed the trail of the shavs for days, back to their camp. We descended like the wrath of Gloria herself, young men and women filled with fire. The fighting was fierce, but the shavs were ill-trained for a real fight, and we cut their warriors down. I remember, in the midst of the fighting, a young shav girl - maybe just past her first decade - picking up a flaming branch from the bonfire and racing at one of my comrades. We both turned. We both raised our blades in the heat of the battle. And Grace, who had been fighting just as fiercely along with us, struck them aside, before kicking the branch out of the girl's hand and knocking her to the ground and out of the fight.
"But why?" we cried out, after we were victorious, and the noncombatants had been driven from Malvici lands. "They were our enemy, even the child!"
"She weren't your enemy, unless you think a child's a fair fight." She spit to one side. "What I've seen of your bladework says you got an argument, mind."
"Our cause is righteous! Look what they did to our people."
"Ayup, and that's why we fought them. But let me tell you something, from Gloria, to me, to you: Righteous ain't a thing you /are/. It's a thing you /do/. The only thing separating you boys from those shavs is that you've got the Pantheon to guide you, to demand better of you, and they got their damned heresies and blood sacrifices. The moment a soldier ain't god his or her honor, they're nothing but a butcher or a thug. Is that what you wanna be?" She was holding that great blade of hers in a way that suggested it was not a rhetorical question, so we both shook our heads. She grunted. "Then mind what you do, because black acts are black, no matter what name you hold."
Some years later, I was still in Southport, serving the Faith and remembering those words when Southport marched to war against Tor. As the reports came in from the battlefields, and as the soldiers of Southport sought out counsel, prayer, and absolution for the orders they had received under Lucien's command, I learned what it meant for a commander to believe that there was no honor in war, and that nothing mattered but stacking up enough bodies to achieve your goal.
If one believes that there is no honor in war, and thus no honor needed by warriors and commanders, then what is left?
Written By Ariel
April 14, 2017, 4:05 p.m.(4/10/1006 AR)
Piano and violin,
stars and moons
lost infinitely together.
In peaceful harmony,
beautiful and elegant.
Dancing as they would,
timeless and classic,
haunting and amazing.
stars and moons
lost infinitely together.
In peaceful harmony,
beautiful and elegant.
Dancing as they would,
timeless and classic,
haunting and amazing.
Written By Driskell
April 14, 2017, 3:39 p.m.(4/10/1006 AR)
Think deeply on what you think is special or different. That which has been done today has already been done before. The suffering, elation, defeats and victories, all of this repeats itself. To think that this specific moment is special or different? All will be balanced in the end with a new beginning.
The tides move in and out, the waves crumble the cliffs and the mountains jut up with fiery rivers to create land.
The tides move in and out, the waves crumble the cliffs and the mountains jut up with fiery rivers to create land.
Written By Dominique
April 14, 2017, 3:17 p.m.(4/10/1006 AR)
There are night I wake, sobbing. I miss my family. I miss my mother especially. My father, my brother. War at our walls, it will only get worse. Sleep is a very hard to catch mistress, she visits when she only desires.
Written By Edward
April 14, 2017, 3:12 p.m.(4/10/1006 AR)
Horrid messengers;
Devils of the worst timing;
Necessary evil.
Devils of the worst timing;
Necessary evil.
Written By Harper
April 14, 2017, 2:03 p.m.(4/10/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Juliet
She came in all frills and overfancified. Silks. Lady Juliet Fidante. Milady Silk. She wanted a fight, though. So I gave her one. Even though it felt like dancing for more than half of it 'til I started to get a little (okay - a lot) more confident. Maybe a little reckless 'cause I knew my advantage. Won't do that every time, just when I know I'm good to do it. That's not showin off. That's just fact. Milady uses a lot of words. Also, she has a thing for roses? It's weird. It might be the place where she's from. Or, she really likes flowers. And leather. And a thing for spoiling.
Wait a minute -
So, Scholar says the word is accentuated and suggests I use it in a sentence. I got this. I accentuated her really good with bruises, and I gave her a shove when she smacked the flat edge of her sword against my ass.
Though Rando says her form's improving.
I'd hate to see what her form looked like before.
Wait a minute -
So, Scholar says the word is accentuated and suggests I use it in a sentence. I got this. I accentuated her really good with bruises, and I gave her a shove when she smacked the flat edge of her sword against my ass.
Though Rando says her form's improving.
I'd hate to see what her form looked like before.
Written By Juliet
April 14, 2017, 1:43 p.m.(4/10/1006 AR)
Sparring again. Leathers and steel. Lady Niamh says I need to use Mirror's Edge to get used to her weight, how she handles, and she's right - and I do, every morning, get my ass handed to me. Even with Mirror's Edge in hand. I guess that says something about the quality of my instructor.
Today I hadn't gotten enough of a beating, so I visited the training centre. Met an iron guardswoman by the name of Harper Ashdown, who was happy to accept and/or offer a spar. I landed a hit when she overbalanced.
We'll just keep quiet about how many hits she landed.
Still, messere Ferrando says my form is improving.
Maybe I won't utterly embarrass myself when the time comes.
Today I hadn't gotten enough of a beating, so I visited the training centre. Met an iron guardswoman by the name of Harper Ashdown, who was happy to accept and/or offer a spar. I landed a hit when she overbalanced.
We'll just keep quiet about how many hits she landed.
Still, messere Ferrando says my form is improving.
Maybe I won't utterly embarrass myself when the time comes.
Written By Calypso
April 14, 2017, 1:29 p.m.(4/10/1006 AR)
On War, Death and Life -
This is the first time many of the people of Arx have been face to face with war. It is not a glorious, honorable thing by nature. Lives are lost in brutal ways. Large bolts are flung in to crowds of people, hoping to kill as many as possible. Sword tips are poisoned with corrosive substances to make sure if the blow does not kill them, the sickness that follows will kill soon after. Barrels of pitch are poured down the sides of our walls and lit on fire by our archers. Boiling oil is poured down from above on to the enemy below. The cavalry is sent out to trample to death those who do not have horses to ride. It is a brutal, necessary thing. People die by the thousands.
Our success in war is often measured in body count. Who suffered the greater loss of life. We're we able to keep more of our own alive longer than they were. The hope is to cut down the enemy numbers to a small enough force that they either retreat or surrender.
In the two wars we fight now, we do not have the luxury of an enemy who retreats or surrenders. They are under the control of entities who do not have respect for life and press them to fight losing battles until they very last of their forces has fallen.
This all said, life is the most precious thing we have. Everyone deserves to live and live well. We soldiers march off and sacrifice the lengths and quality of our own lives to see that those we fight for are given the opportunity to live and thrive as fully as possible. And sometimes that means we have to measure our lives verses the lives of our enemies.
War is messy, complicated, brutal and tragic. But necessary.
This is the first time many of the people of Arx have been face to face with war. It is not a glorious, honorable thing by nature. Lives are lost in brutal ways. Large bolts are flung in to crowds of people, hoping to kill as many as possible. Sword tips are poisoned with corrosive substances to make sure if the blow does not kill them, the sickness that follows will kill soon after. Barrels of pitch are poured down the sides of our walls and lit on fire by our archers. Boiling oil is poured down from above on to the enemy below. The cavalry is sent out to trample to death those who do not have horses to ride. It is a brutal, necessary thing. People die by the thousands.
Our success in war is often measured in body count. Who suffered the greater loss of life. We're we able to keep more of our own alive longer than they were. The hope is to cut down the enemy numbers to a small enough force that they either retreat or surrender.
In the two wars we fight now, we do not have the luxury of an enemy who retreats or surrenders. They are under the control of entities who do not have respect for life and press them to fight losing battles until they very last of their forces has fallen.
This all said, life is the most precious thing we have. Everyone deserves to live and live well. We soldiers march off and sacrifice the lengths and quality of our own lives to see that those we fight for are given the opportunity to live and thrive as fully as possible. And sometimes that means we have to measure our lives verses the lives of our enemies.
War is messy, complicated, brutal and tragic. But necessary.
Written By Gisele
April 14, 2017, 12:04 p.m.(4/10/1006 AR)
Aurum Texts is closed until further notice.
Written By Fortunato
April 14, 2017, 11:37 a.m.(4/9/1006 AR)
All right.
You sleep, you wake up, you realize you've been frantically treading water for days. Shame associated with this. You forget how to swim, your only thought moment to moment is how not to quite drown. Keep moving, keep breathing.
Shame associated with this, but shame is a trap. Weights on your legs. Paths toward the undertow. No. Find driftwood, find mooring. Center. Move on. Unshackle. Move on. Change a little bit each time. Try to keep the summed shift upward.
Fires in the dark, stars in the bleak. Every moment we have is dear. Take a deep breath, find your center. Bodies accumulate. Do not forget the preciousness of life. Find your deepest strength and forward.
We're here to live. We're here to persist.
You sleep, you wake up, you realize you've been frantically treading water for days. Shame associated with this. You forget how to swim, your only thought moment to moment is how not to quite drown. Keep moving, keep breathing.
Shame associated with this, but shame is a trap. Weights on your legs. Paths toward the undertow. No. Find driftwood, find mooring. Center. Move on. Unshackle. Move on. Change a little bit each time. Try to keep the summed shift upward.
Fires in the dark, stars in the bleak. Every moment we have is dear. Take a deep breath, find your center. Bodies accumulate. Do not forget the preciousness of life. Find your deepest strength and forward.
We're here to live. We're here to persist.
Written By Peregrine
April 14, 2017, 11:15 a.m.(4/9/1006 AR)
...as dictated to a priest of Vellichor...
We know our lands, we Shav'arvani. They are our city, the wild places that are not touched by walls. When the dark ones, the sick ones, the broken ones came for us I saw them coming and we were ready. We pushed them back. When they came again, I saw them again and we were ready. We pushed them back. We bled but they did not win our lives.
Then they came hidden. I was not there. I did not see them. I found what they did to us after.
I found my son in pieces around our home. My Osprey who would be chief after my father, after me. I found my husband's hand and his hair and his blood. My Temmas, who was quiet to my loud. I held their pieces and carried them to the fire and gave them to the spirits. I wore their blood as the smoke went to the sky.
I have heard the wailing of your parents and your brothers and your sisters, Arx. They sound like my wailing when I found mine there in pieces on the ground. It is the sound my heart made when the fire was lit. We scream with the same voice.
You were us once. We were you. You lost this. You lost the way. Some are finding it again.
This is good.
We know our lands, we Shav'arvani. They are our city, the wild places that are not touched by walls. When the dark ones, the sick ones, the broken ones came for us I saw them coming and we were ready. We pushed them back. When they came again, I saw them again and we were ready. We pushed them back. We bled but they did not win our lives.
Then they came hidden. I was not there. I did not see them. I found what they did to us after.
I found my son in pieces around our home. My Osprey who would be chief after my father, after me. I found my husband's hand and his hair and his blood. My Temmas, who was quiet to my loud. I held their pieces and carried them to the fire and gave them to the spirits. I wore their blood as the smoke went to the sky.
I have heard the wailing of your parents and your brothers and your sisters, Arx. They sound like my wailing when I found mine there in pieces on the ground. It is the sound my heart made when the fire was lit. We scream with the same voice.
You were us once. We were you. You lost this. You lost the way. Some are finding it again.
This is good.
Written By Thena
April 14, 2017, 11:02 a.m.(4/9/1006 AR)
I killed a man yesterday. Arguably two. It wasn't the first time, but it's the first time since I joined the Iron Guard. So...yay me?
You think you're going to start afresh and then you end up knifing ruffians in the part of town you came up in with your cousin and a Culler and a street rat you've probably run into before (though it's hard to tell, he's quite unremarkable) and, well, Sparte, and all the areas just get really gray.
You think you're going to start afresh and then you end up knifing ruffians in the part of town you came up in with your cousin and a Culler and a street rat you've probably run into before (though it's hard to tell, he's quite unremarkable) and, well, Sparte, and all the areas just get really gray.
Written By Sparte
April 14, 2017, 10:53 a.m.(4/9/1006 AR)
I worry sometimes that I'm being desensitized to the horrors around us. The eagerness in me to do battle with a truely evil foe, what becomes of it after we've won? Do I simply leave it behind, tucked in a spot that waits and bides time until it is needed again? Is it so easy as that? Maybe it is, but I see how others are handling things. The way they take to violence even against those who are as human as the rest of us. It worries me.
Written By Reese
April 14, 2017, 2:42 a.m.(4/9/1006 AR)
The Princess Peregrine seems to like the piano quite a bit. She also seems to like feathers. Shadow calls her the Falcon Princess. He thinks Lark is the queen of birds though. Maybe she is. There is Peregrine of the Golden Feathers. There is the owl. There is our falcons. There is Lady Aislin, There is Prince Aiden. There is all our bird perches. There is my Justice. So maybe.
Shadow was quite hurt when he came to me, but Princess Ailys patched him up good. He likes the garden, he likes the Nightgold whiskey and he likes the cake. I gave him lots of tea. It will help. Maybe he will be back. I can't blame him.
Sir Silas made the cake. He made our war table for Grayson house (and what a table it is), he made the piano, he made our teas and so much more.
The Graysons are strong. We are united. Our meeting went well.
Princess Reese
Shadow was quite hurt when he came to me, but Princess Ailys patched him up good. He likes the garden, he likes the Nightgold whiskey and he likes the cake. I gave him lots of tea. It will help. Maybe he will be back. I can't blame him.
Sir Silas made the cake. He made our war table for Grayson house (and what a table it is), he made the piano, he made our teas and so much more.
The Graysons are strong. We are united. Our meeting went well.
Princess Reese
Written By Ann
April 14, 2017, 2:34 a.m.(4/9/1006 AR)
Document the ninth:
1 bath
2 men
3 of us but only 1 getting clean
2 bad
... I had heard that the Grotto was only good for orgies. I may report this is not the case. It is also good for scholarly discussion. And genitalia jokes.
1 bath
2 men
3 of us but only 1 getting clean
2 bad
... I had heard that the Grotto was only good for orgies. I may report this is not the case. It is also good for scholarly discussion. And genitalia jokes.
Written By Sameera
April 14, 2017, 2:23 a.m.(4/9/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Orazio
I am not sure on him. He blames the whole for the actions of one. As I can tell, anyways. Weird. Will have to consider him more. He seems filled with good intentions. Judgement is perhaps questionable. Undecided.
Written By Sameera
April 14, 2017, 2:21 a.m.(4/9/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Aldwin
He taught me a little on investigation, yet, he condemns those sworn to the Thrax family. Not sure what to think.
Written By Sameera
April 14, 2017, 2:20 a.m.(4/9/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Edain
I expected him to condemn Thrax as a whole like so many are but he did not. Strange.
Written By Sameera
April 14, 2017, 2:19 a.m.(4/9/1006 AR)
Relationship Note on Ford
Marquis Ford Kennex is on ideas of a way to help Thralls and former Thralls live better. He is a weird man. He is also difficult.
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