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Written By Cara

Nov. 18, 2016, 3:47 p.m.(2/25/1005 AR)

Why does no one ever ask me to research something nice?

I could write a lovely paper on tea varietals.

Written By Eirene

Nov. 18, 2016, 3:16 p.m.(2/25/1005 AR)

Relationship Note on Max

I know I'm told not to trust a Thraxian further than I can spit in their eye, but damn if I don't bond well with them. I guess they're all soldiers at heart even if some of 'em may dismiss me as a woman. (Not that the ones I've met have mind you).

He's seen his share of shit, the Count of Blackwater. And he's a sailor first and a noble second; gotta respect that. He's like a kindred spirit with really fucking good rum and an underlying feeling we're all screwed.

Written By Max

Nov. 18, 2016, 3:09 p.m.(2/25/1005 AR)

I don't give in to fear.

I do not let my emotions show on my features.

I do not engage in panic or in useless flailing.

But if I was the kind of man to engage in such things?

If I were?

The concept of an enemy so powerful and so present, so well informed and well armed, that they could simultaneously kill almost every land based messenger, from trade caravan to single man running through the forests he knows like back of his own hand?

While concurrently sinking a half dozen ships, individually, on the high seas?

To do this and leave no witnesses, no obvious clues?


If I was a man given to fear.

I might be afraid.

Written By Gisele

Nov. 18, 2016, 2:55 p.m.(2/25/1005 AR)

Relationship Note on Donella

Her Highness Princess Donella, Voice of Thrax, is a generous woman with a great thirst for learning. Whether she becomes my patron or not I can be proud that my efforts to pair beauty with knowledge has found favor in her eyes.

Written By Gisele

Nov. 18, 2016, 2:53 p.m.(2/25/1005 AR)

Relationship Note on Benjamin

The barber surgeon is very driven and capable of extreme acts of charity. Even acts of kindness. But I wonder at Master Carver's interests and hobbies. Anyone who can grin and eagerly press on when faced with a pit full of rotting bodies has something questionable in their judgment.

Written By Cicero

Nov. 18, 2016, 12:21 p.m.(2/25/1005 AR)

Passing acquaintance
The work is ever present
The seat barely warmed

Written By Delia

Nov. 18, 2016, 11:31 a.m.(2/25/1005 AR)

Dearest Darling Journal,

I was gifted with the most amazing seasilk grown!

It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my whole life... I am torn between wanting to wear it every second of every day to being terrified to so much as crease the soft fabric.

For now I shall just hang it in my room where I can see it and wait for the most perfect opportunity to show it off the public for the first time.

Oh.... and I learned that going down a hill in the snow sitting on a flimsy piece of wood can be delightful fun! Must try again!

Written By Cicero

Nov. 18, 2016, 11:25 a.m.(2/25/1005 AR)

Try a toboggan
Chilled by a rapid descent
Warmed by adventure

Written By Dawn

Nov. 18, 2016, 11:10 a.m.(2/25/1005 AR)

Such a year as this has not been seen since the time of the Crownbreaker Wars, for tumultuous events. In a year, we have lost a Queen, three High Lords, the Lord Commander of the King's Own, countless members of the King's Own, messengers, scholars, sailors, and more. The King lies in his Rest without sign of waking, and the hope the people may have felt to have a Regent take the reins of the Compact has been balanced by this overt act of violence against our own on the roads of the kingdom; on the waters of our kingdom; in our very city of Arx.

What this tells me is that our enemies are afraid. We have learned some of the truths that were kept from us and sought to spread that knowledge. What those messengers carried was not only news of a newly elected Regent, but the knowledge of the Nox'alfar.

We have learned what they would have kept from us and because of that they push back, exacting a bloody price for our efforts.

That will not stand.

I write this to those who oppose us, those who lurk in the shadows and think that because you have operated in safety and secrecy for so long that we cannot touch you.

We know. We know you. We know what you have kept from us and we will continue to learn the rest. We see the world now and we will not return to ignorance. Nor will we tolerate your continued existence.

However pure your intentions when you began this enterprise, you have become one of the world's great evils. You have acted against our interests and killed those who were doing their sworn duty, those who are sacred in the eyes of our gods.

Your time has come. The Compact is united as it hasn't been before. We know you. We know your names. If you continue to act against us, or keep to your wicked shadows, we will cut you from our world like a cancer.

When you are gone, no one will mourn you. You will be reviled, as your deeds deserve.

Or, surrender yourself to our justice, confess, and you may yet receive mercy for your crimes. The choice is yours.

Either way, your time is done.

Written By Samantha

Nov. 18, 2016, 10:42 a.m.(2/25/1005 AR)

It is never easy to explain to people how what happened to me as a child lives so presently in my mind. Duke Gabriel once told me this is something he has sometimes seen in his soldiers, especially after a particularly brutal encounter. Despite moving on with their lives, in some ways they are still on the battlefield.

I was witness to unspeakable carnage and utterly helpless at the time. To allow myself to be helpless again, even for something as potentially pleasurable as a beauty treatment, took far more than I think the other ladies realized, and it's not as if I would drag the party down by explaining myself.

The end result was entirely lovely, I don't remember my skin feeling so much like silk before. And I think, in the right environment, I'd do it again. But the fear is not entirely conquered.

Written By Ida

Nov. 18, 2016, 10:13 a.m.(2/25/1005 AR)

Master Fortunato had advertised about doing sketches, an offer I decided to request after. I asked for something with a weapon as the central figure. His niece, an aspiring (and clearly visionary) weaponsmith herself, came up with the story below, which I want to save here; I love it.

Ah, but to be able to craft a weapon of lore someday...

"Once upon a time, in a village near Southport, there was a diamondplate blade that only appeared in times of great need, monstrous need. Monsters, for example. It could only be wielded by the worthy, but, oh, when it was wielded, it was magnificent. It brought the barrage of wind and rain with it, it sucked the very air from the beasts' lungs. And one day, it may wake again."

The sketch is as stunning as the tale and now hangs in my shop, a fitting marriage of story and art.

Written By Esera

Nov. 18, 2016, 8:27 a.m.(2/25/1005 AR)

You cannot die, you cannot sleep, you cannot wake anew. You are always You. Your shackles are infinity.

Written By Juliet

Nov. 18, 2016, 5:26 a.m.(2/24/1005 AR)

I never got to go into detail, but I suppose I shared -a- tip or two. And got a few in return.

Duchess Nightgold knows how to spoil her friends, I'll give her that.

I do hope this becomes a monthly occurence. I feel radiant.

Written By Serafine

Nov. 18, 2016, 3:20 a.m.(2/24/1005 AR)

the painted flesh of something tender
a somber blue trail on copper skin
split like fruit with ancient lines
to tease and stroke and sing like sin

to slide along the pale expanse
the field of pleasure so long denied
a heart beat from a savored demise
and bleed with velvet made of hide

he sings for me, this pretty bird
breathes my name and claws my hips
lines to blue roads mapped now cut
but taken sweet the curses from lips

pet, a token, a moment's rest clean
satisfying the ache and rush to burn
it's not his face that blinds the eyes
not the distraction for me to churn

verdant fields of peace, surrendered
gaping sighs, crowned flowers so
steel that rusts in trust and peace
abandoned old blades without a foe

to ache for hands that are only ash
to savor lips that may never be
visions sear and rip, dismember
the very best I had left of me.

Written By Joscelin

Nov. 18, 2016, 3:04 a.m.(2/24/1005 AR)

Relationship Note on Myrinda

If I thought for a moment I could change the stripes of a person I cared for, I wouldn't do it.

Now, I will remelt a defective piece of metal, whether I ruined it with an errant hammer strike or gouged it with a file, or it snapped for a flaw I didn't see, I will point my flame to it until it melts, formless, a puddle of possibilities to be remade in my crucible.

Repoured, remade, reused, reclaimed.

But people are not metal, not near as malleable or as easy to replace.

You can't change what a person is, who they are, especially if they don't want to.

Should you scream? Throw things? Insults? Drag them off and throw them away?

No. You can only accept and love and try to understand, and barring that, just let it be. It is who they are, and you love who they are or you don't.

So no, scholar, I am not apathetic. Far from it. But I would just as soon change her as I would cease to love her. She is as she is, and while I know she may not accept me or the choices I make, I will still love her, even if she befriends those that have hurt me for spite, to soothe her insulted sense of pride and honor. It's true, I can only control myself, but I do choose this. I will always choose this.

And if she cannot accept my choices, then she doesn't. Being who I am, it is not in me to force anyone to do anything they aren't inclined to do, and I work to preserve that small grace of freedom for me and mine for as long as I might, with the help of those I know who will keep me in check and preserve the integrity of what we work for.

Written By Isolde

Nov. 18, 2016, 2:50 a.m.(2/24/1005 AR)

Visions like confections in the night, formed from all around us.
I, for one, cannot be bothered to be contrary.
Journey far and wide
And upon the septumnal oceans.
All of us seek that which we are.

Occasionally those might take advantage.
Others look for the cruelty upon them.
And still, those desire to use the lash and chain.
And their reflection seek it for themselves.

- Some days I think wiser words have never been spoken.

Written By Silas

Nov. 18, 2016, 1:27 a.m.(2/24/1005 AR)

Mistress Myrinda and my brother are apparently feuding over his unexpected promotion to Assistant Guildmaster within the Crafters Guild. I am glad it did not devolve into an actual duel, and I suggest we entrust Mistress Joscelin with the delegation of the Crafters Guild: it does not speak well of us if we vote her in just to cause a riot when she makes a decision someone disagrees with.

In other news, let it be known that Count Max Darkwater seems fond of Mercier wines. I also enjoy his stick figure drawings.

Written By Kima

Nov. 18, 2016, 1:20 a.m.(2/24/1005 AR)

Hunger for vengeance poisons the soul.

Written By Max

Nov. 18, 2016, 12:55 a.m.(2/24/1005 AR)

A warm fire.

An expansive view.

A handful of beautiful woman.

A drunken friend barging in.

Who says I need to be on the sea to feel like I'm in the navy?

Written By Orazio

Nov. 18, 2016, 12:40 a.m.(2/24/1005 AR)

Lagoma, of change and rebirth, with your unflinching hands, you guide each of us to our winter. Our quiet. Our final breath. This is not a punishment, but a gift. For only in winter can spring be born. Only in death can we pass through the final Reflection, and the worthy among us find peace in the realms beyond.

Sadeletto, my brother, I pray that you have found your rest, hard-won and well-deserved. I hope you find Mother, Father, and the twins there. I hope you knew how proud you should be of your son and your daughter.

I hope that--I hope.

I hope.

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